Dust to Deceit
by Dilasc
Summary: An OT story. In a land called Kertonmel, the Pokemon are new, unique... and the legendaries are evil demons, the Oni. Phil Molson embarks on a journey through the feral land of this Mongolian region in order to take the journey his dead sister would have.
1. Onigeddon

It rained in red. A torrent of crimson droplets fell from greying orange sky, as clouds of a dark, sickly red did little to block out the night sky above, meaning that this rain, was anything but natural. The droplets were warm, and sticky, bathing the ground in warm, fresh hemoglobin. Even the stars looked bleak, and a bright, sickly green as well.

The grass was dead, dried up, and crinkly. It was as hard as iron, but frail enough to disintegrate into powder at a simple touch. As all this happened, Phillip Molson gasped in horror. He could hardly believe that this... this Armageddon, was a reality. As he glanced about the dying red soaked earth, a sinister laughter caught his ear, and from what he could see, it looked as though there were five laughing faces, floating in midair.

Those faces, as strange as they were, terrified the boy, though he knew nothing about any of them. At that, one of the faces approached him, a grin upon its frightening face. "The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!" it said. It almost sounded monotonous yet whispery, as though it were being chanted.

"The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!" another one said as it floated towards him from the sky above. The emptiness of their facial forms were dead and void of any appearance whatsoever. There were no eyes, or mouths, just thin faces shrouded in a mysterious shadow.

**"The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!"**

This time, at the loud outburst of the five monotonous, shadowed faces, the ground began to shake, and the sky suddenly darkened. The reason for this darkness was scary in its obviousness. In the sky was a giant sphere of cratered grey and white... and it was drawing closer and closer to the ground.

This, Phil concluded quickly, was the moon, pulling closer and closer every second, the ground beneath him beginning to crack, as though the entire planet were being wracked by seismic doom, and with the moon hurtling to the planet like a giant meteorite, the idea wasn't too unfathomable.

The gravitational pressure was becoming to much. Phil could not hold his ground any longer as he suddenly felt so heavy, he landed face first in the grass, shattering the delicate dry blades beneath him to a powdery nothingness! His shorts were drenched in red blood, as were his shirt, and face and arms. He realized, soon enough, that he too was beginning to bleed.

As he attempted to reach up, his blood soaked hand trembled violently, as he felt the gravitational pressure of the moon rip away at him. He couldn't even muster a scream under this pressure, not as though anyone would hear him. Again, as he lay on the dead, bloodied grass, his head managed to lift itself upwards in fear as he saw the five shadowy faces. Their emptiness terrified him more than the Earth's impending doom.

In an instant, Phil felt himself being ripped from his dream state as he was violently rippeds back to the world of the awake.

**"The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell!"**

The voices repeated it one more time, as he began to stir. The funny, yet at the same time horrifying thing was, he could have sworn he heard the shrill, faint whisper of the end of the chant even as he was no longer haunted by sleep.


	2. Food For Hate

**Dust to Deceit **

Chapter 1: Food for Hate

"Damn it! Damn it all!" snarled a voice of rage and anger. The fury seethed in every word as they left the lips of the boy who enunciated them. "Why, damn it! Why!" he cried again as he stamped his foot for the ninth time in two minutes towards the warm grass below him, leaving little noise in his temper tantrum

This boy was Phil Molson, fourteen years old, and filled with a rage he's never had before. The scowl marred his otherwise decent looking face as in its current state. After all, teeth grinded together, and twisting the very skin into the most angered state possible, while getting redder than a tomato, really isn't very attractive. Wavy brown hair streaked down towards the top of his neck, and his green eyes deepened to a dark and angry shade, or so it'd seem worthy of belief. By his foot stood short and confused, a sky-blue little creature. Crocodilian in stood its ground on its two legs, and a frown covered its long gator snout, filled with sharp intimidating croc teeth. On its back, small red frill shaped spines stood on edge in fear. It tapped, (bravely) upon the leg of the boy before him, fearful of knowing there would be consequences.

It took but not even a split of a split second to get the response as the boy spun around and exploded like dynamite. "I HATE YOU!" he shouted as he glared down the Pokemon during the calm before the scorn. "I HATE YOU SO MUCH!" he repeated, emphasizing heavily upon the word much, as if to leave a brutal truth be known. It ended not there though, as he lifted the creature by the nape of the neck with a forced and tight grasp. "You're a worthless piece of trash!" he continued as he proceeded to toss it to the ground like a crumpled up piece of paper.

The pain the small crocodilian beast felt was indeed harsh, but it wouldn't dare fight back. After all, it knew the cause of the boy's anger… and thus felt guilty.

Phillip's anger was indeed understandable to a point. It all started three days ago. He found his sister… dead! Her bloodied, injured corpse attracting flies, and carrion left and right. Where was this all? Right by a cave of many of these blue reptilians and seemingly bigger versions. His eyes caught their glances, and tears of anger began to well in the boy's eyes. The sight was too much! He could not bear to watch them feast upon his three years younger sister's remains, which is no doubt what they'd intend to do.

It was extremely saddening news, the death of his sister, heartbreaking in every way, and a river of tears flowed at the funeral that was held back in town the next day. To make matters worse, new trainers would be able to receive starting Pokemon in two days, and Phil's sister was to be a new trainer. Though his father suggested against it, he sighed and replied, "Why not… it may take my mind off of it. Maybe I can live her dream for her. Not like I have any dreams of my own." It was a reasonable logic. You can never live your dreams if you were dead. In his mind though, he knew one fact. 'I just hope I don't get a stupid, bastardly slime ball creature.'

The day came fast enough however, and trainers went to take their choices. There were three choices in stock for trainers that day. There was the bluish-green quadruped, Bulbasaur. The tinted green, leafy seed upon its back seemed to indicate some verdant power within it.

Next to it, a red-orange, baby chicken stood with beady black eyes and a lithe form shaped like the flame of a lit candle wafting calmly in the wind. Its wings, stubbly and hidden from reality as they were, were too small to enable this creature the gravity defying power of flight. It was no doubt to the sad boy that this was a frying chicken. It looked kind of weak and innocent, but then again, it looked way better than option three.

The last option was… oh goodie! It was a Totodile, the accursed reptilian species of sister murderer! 'I'll be damned if my hands are forced to touch that creep!' he thought, 'Unless I'm ringing its neck…' Realization however struck fast! This Totodile was there! It was there in the cave where they butchered his sister into a snack for their cave! He knew not how he knew, but he did. More than likely, it was the slight widening of the beast's eyes as it caught glimpse of the enraged boy.

He pulled out of the possibility of a staring contest as quickly as possible. The more he looked, the more he felt inclined to ring his hands around its dastardly neck, ruining his likely chance of pursuing his sister's dream. 'But Professor Brenetmos knows what happened! Maybe he'd let a violent act slide this once…' he thought with an odd sense of hope. Yes, sweet vengeance would so sing like a soothing melody through his ears.

With a shrug, he decided that he may as well see who else was here with him. The first person his eyes came across seemed to be female, and one with a certain familiarity at that. With her rather pale complexion, she looked about twelve years of age. Her long, lithe green hair cascaded down the back of her neck like an endless field of grass. At the bridge of her small nose were deep pools of mud brown for eyes. For attire was a simple red t-shirt that hid not her slowly growing feminine body, and below, she seemed to wear a knee length skirt. It all appeared itself in a rather short package that vaguely past five feet in height, though she was sitting down, so it was hard to tell.

Yes… she was very familiar. It was Gina Meshing, a friend of his sister. Though he himself had seen her a few times, he had only once seen the girl actually with his sister. That however, was a few years back. Now however, he'd almost be damned, but he had to admit, she looked rather attractive, or would be in due time. Yes, quite appealing indeed.

He had once heard, from his sister a few years back that some of her friends liked him. Why anyone would like a slightly overweight, introverted loner was beyond his comprehension. Besides, what the heck should nine or ten year old girls be doing by falling in love anyway.

As she noticed his stare, she smiled, turning away quickly. Yet again, sometimes he wondered just how faux words could be. Seeing after all, was indeed believing.

The other person to be there today looked… quiet. His dark blue eyes seemed to stare with a most unfocused concentration of the absolution of nothingness. To further the strangeness of the situation, his skin was very dark toned. As far as he knew, few dark skinned people ever had blue eyes. Regardless, he was very awkward, and probably someone who'd best be left as an introvert for the entirety of his life.

A sigh escaped Phillip's lips as he awaited the fate that was to come. 'Well, its either the Bulbasaur or Torchic for me, it is.' The choice between them however, felt tough to make, but thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Wilbur Hamilar Brenetmos walked into the room.

"Ah… well you're all here." he smiled. This was a man of intrigue, for most all of Kertonmel's Pokemon research was dealt with by this very man. Though said to be in his fifties, one could say he were thirty-five, if he simply dyed the whitening spots on his black, curled hair. His mustache was a thick black too, though whitening and age has also given it a grayness about it. His green eyes blinked as he stared over the three youngster who would be receiving startering Pokemon today. 'Ah, where have the years gone?' he smiled as he looked them over. "Ah, well then. I take it I know why you are all here." he asked, as all 3 youths nodded, even the one who seemed to stare into space. It was as though that boy's mind was one tracked, and nothing else even existed at all. "Ah, Gina. Good to see you." he smiled to the girl, giving her a firm handshake. And man oh man, this guy had a helluva handshake! The firm grasp, the shake in perfect formation. Wow! If anyone were to be an expert on handshakes, then this man would be it. Of course, he studied Pokemon instead. Still, the intensity of the skill in that formal greeting was obviously too good for the girl.

"Hi." she smiled. Her voice seemed calm as if she knew him well. He smiled and turned then to the introvert.

"And you I presume are Mitchell Parson." he smiled, "It is good to meet you." he paused "Uh, hello?" he repeated again, vying for the boy's attention.

The boy stared up at the man and nodded, "Eh? Oh, yea, hi." he spoke quickly, and in rather reclusive manner, as though he thought less is more, and people were meant to be avoided.

He finally turned his attention to the boy. "Ah, Phillip Molson. I heard the bad news." he said with a frown. "Sara was truly a good person, if not sometimes a klutz." he chuckled, for half a second, before snapping back to reality. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Eh," Phillip said, falsely enthusiastic. "Don't worry yourself with it."

The professorial man simply let it drop, no use bringing up more sad endings on a day of supposedly new beginnings. "Well, since your choice to take this up was very recent, I'm afraid that you'll have to go last." he said.

With a shrug for a response, the professor continued. "Well then," he smiled as he went on to explanations of sorts. Descriptions about each Pokemon were brief and hardly enlightening. All the while the odd, and zoned out Mitchell seemed to be picking at his fingernails with… well, other fingernails. Especially interesting were the positive things he had to say about Totodile. Well, it was interesting in a what the hell is this guy thinking sort of way.  
"Yea, wonderful choice! I love murder cases!" blurted Phil in sheer spite, deep venom spewed from each and ever lingering syllable. This of course, caught him the stares of all 3 people in the room. He himself had been shocked by the fact that he had dared to interrupt, and a slight flustering discomfort formed in a deep red shade upon his face and cheeks. "Uh, never mind."

'That boy really believes that…' the Professor pushed back these sad thoughts as he proceeded. "Anyway, Gina. You're up first."

'Yup, as I thought…' he shrugged. The two people's turns seemed to come and go, Gina taking Bulbasaur, that weird introvert taking the Torchic. Wait a second! That didn't sound good. 'Oh god no! Please, oh please don't tell me! God let me die right here, so long as I'm not murdered by black hearted crocodiles! Please, PLEASE don't let it be so!'

"Well, Phil, it seems that, uh, elimination has made selection easier for you." the professor smiled. He stood up and brought towards the boy a blue colored Pokemon. "Congratulations to you all!" the professor smiled.

Phil however, nearly snapped. His mind's eye saw his sisters dream dissolve as though it were cotton candy in a pool of water, shattering like a great vase of very high value. He had failed his beloved, dearly departed sibling. He could not fulfill her dream with the use of a murderer.

A/N: Are you all liking this so far? You better review, cuz it'll make things better.


	3. Copernican Complex

I hope I get more reviews this time, especially without needing to beg than I did in my first story. Man, it's difficult being original sometimes if nobody appreciates it! Oh well, review and you'll see more!

**Interlude 1: A Copernican Complex**

Dressed in a hooded green robe, a man stood by an altar in the middle of a dimly lit room. The source of this light was a holographic projection of the solar system, with planets, asteroids, and satellites of scaled, yet accurate sizes, with the earth the size of a fist, and the sun as large as a door. White mist swirled about this man as a look of deep meditative concentration filled his eyes, and protected his mind from any disturbances.

All in all, this was a common practice for a member of the Orbital Occult. Considered a shunned religion of sorts, due to its strange pathos and even more peculiar ethos, it is considered on par with the like of satanic cults. Rather than relying on an all knowing deity, or leaving their fate in the hands of mythical beasts, the Occult has followed a path far greater, far larger than the simplicities of Earth.

The power of the Occult came from the sun, lunar satellites, and the planets. All in their most brutal, and scientific truths. As such, Venus is no land of love, for the harnessed power from Venus is that of the greenhouse and the noxious cloud. For Neptune, there is no water. For Neptune, the power of immense, speedy wind was the calling.

Most members and followers feel a need for answers, of the universe, life, themselves, and a greater purpose far beyond the control of a monotheistic deity, and definitely beyond the power of actual Pokemon themselves. What better power than some of the largest entities in the known universe.

The man looked upwards, gazing directly into the holographic sun that was straight above him. He raised his hands, and with clenching and unclenching of his fists, he began to speak rites of solar summoning. Calling upon the Great Orbital Defensive, the only GOD the Occult truly had to worship.

"Great nuclear reactor in the sky," he began, "bringer of daylight, heat, life, and skin cancer!" He took a pause as his left hand touched the hologram, making it losing its holographic intangibility, causing it to be solid and whole. "Ultraviolet, and Infrared combine! I beseech the Sun!"

As he spoke the words, the sun disappeared from the holographic placement, causing the room to dim slightly, before it appeared, smaller, but still just as bright, rotating around the man's hooded head. The wrinkles of his face could be seen, as could his fading hair, that was just far too yellow to be considered blonde, his eyes empty of all but their whiteness, and a few red lines as he sat in trance and deep concentration.

The mist at his feet calmed, as the man's breathing picked up for a few seconds to catch a pause. Then, a few seconds later, he resumed, "Next I seek our sister planet," the man yelled to the empty air, "I call upon the volcanic bed, and noxious swirl of our closest neighbor!" His hand reached out and grasped the holographic image of a swirling brown, almost the exact same size as the Earthly hologram. "Morning Star, Evening Star, lend me the essence of Venus!"

With that, the Venus hologram disappeared, and without any noticeable dimming, joined the sun in revolving his head at a shrunken size, though far less to scale compared to the Sun.

"Now!" he yelled, not taking a breather, "I seek the great gas giant!" he yelled, "Keeper of the red, and stormy trademark, thrice our planetary size!" his hands reached up for a very colorful hologram that seemed as big as a large beach ball. Save for a single red spot at the bottom edge, which spun every so often, the planet was a spectacle of peach, orange, pink and white. Around it "I summon the keeper of the Galileans, the tumultuous sulfur, the watery core, and the two giants!" At this, smaller spheres became visible around the colorful sphere. The one closest to the ball of red was the most colorful of all. It was mixed with yellows, and reds, and whites, and was perhaps no bigger than a pinky. Slightly further away were three more spheres, their color was a simple dark brown. "Puller of asteroids, I desire Jupiter and it's Jovian satellites! Io, Ganymede, Europa, Callisto."

At this, the giant beach ball and its four satellites swiftly disappeared, and began to revolve around his head, of course, at a much smaller size, the four Galilean satellites revolving around the small Jupiter at about the size of a few grains of sand.

With that, the man broke his focus, and in his eyes, the natural brown faded back into existence, surrounding a black pupil. "Now, show me the way to Gretkan." he said, "I beseech the power of some of our mighty planets to bring us a path to the giant planet of life! Open the worm hole of space and time, and let me scry the future!"

At that, a vortex in front of his face appeared, and illuminated the room with bright, mystical light appeared in front of him in a swirling, sky blue vortex. Within, a vision of a creature was seen. The creature had the shape of a gas pump, with four gas pumping 'arms' freakishly enough, and had a swirling vortex of purple and green swirl about in every which way, and atop that central gas dome, a singular, yellowish-green eye sat, on an eye socket attached by a simple cord.

"Vortexaco!" the man gasped in realization, "The gas master who can rip a big one to break the bounds of time and space. Of course!" He smirked, "With this godly creature's help, I can build a portal to Gretkan, and build a new civilization on an inhabitable, and humongous planet, nearly the size of Jupiter!"

With that, he laughed a laugh that sounded a mix between ecstatic and maniacal. This was his chance, his fate, and destiny! It was written in the stars of the Occult's future, to escape earth and eke a new life on this colossal planet.


	4. Dile M For Murder

1Yes, you probably did see this before. However, there was also a second, earlier version of this preceding this story by about a year with crappier writing. I went to delete the old work, but by accident I deleted the newer one. Regardless, my popularity at this reposting seems to be far greater. For that, I am, very glad.

**Dust to Deceit**

Chapter 2: Dile M for Murder!

"Now, before you go, you might wish to pick up some essentials right here and now." it was Mr. Brenetmos. "As for you Mitchell," he looked to the dazed out, dark skinned boy 'I think you'd best be going."

The boy nodded, and with nay a word strode slowly towards, then out the door. A certain sense of creepiness seemed to disperse from the air as he left, for his lack of contact with the seemingly real world seemed all but disturbing.

"So… what was with that kid?" Phil wondered. Despite the vengeance that weighted down on his mind like five tons of finely mason crafted bricks, he simply had to know what gave.

"Mitchell, well, the boy has ADD." Brenetmos sighed. It was a sad fact of life. Pokemon and humans alike could oh so suddenly come down or be born with a mental or physical debility.

"Advanced Dungeons and Dragonites?" he asked, "That hardly sounds bad. I mean I'm not a fan but if…" he was cut off, as the mustached man began again.

"Attention Deficit Disorder." he said, and Phil oh so suddenly nodded in understanding. He knew what that meant.

"Uh, Mr. Brenetmos," went Gina in confusion, "Would he really be, uh," she paused, a word like sane or stable would just sound wrong, "Would he be, uh, 'ok' enough to go out on his own."

"He isn't." the man replied calmly, yet in the least bit happy. "His mother suggested he have himself one in order to help him out. He isn't going to be adventuring at all."

"So that means… it doesn't matter what Pokemon he has! Damnit!" Phil growled at this realization. "Maybe I can still catch him and switch! I can get rid of this murderer and be done with it…" he blinked… Busted! Caught! Exposed! Abort Mission! "Uh, I mean to say…" he trailed. He couldn't find the words for the situation. He was caught bloody red handed and the vengeance had yet to be even remotely fulfilled.

Mr. Brenetmos however, looked stern as he heard the boy. His expression was of even more utmost seriousness than before, and his words rang with a sense of command. "Say no more." he said firmly. "I'll talk with you about this later, Phillip." he then added quickly as his eyes narrowed upon the youthful boy, "Alone!"

"Uh, ok." he shrugged. 'Bide your time and your revenge shall be as sweet as a chocolate ice cream sundae bursting with fudge brownies and creamy marshmallow sauce. Patience is a virtue, and I'll soon have that savory sundae.' his mind was happy with the thought. The anticipation was hard to resist, but what had to be done was done. For now, he'd wait, for he loved chocolate, and anything better, had to be worth the time.

Brenetmos made things clear as he went on to provide the basics for starting trainers. A few Pokeballs, a Pokedex. It should, for those who know, be obvious, that these are the basics that every trainer receives when at their 'Lab of Origin'. Mind you, it was nary a long explanation. The time spent was mostly finding the Pokeballs to provide for trainers.

"Well then." went the professorial man as the two kids were all geared up. "I guess my work is done." he exhaled greatly in relief, making the room smell of odd odors. "What happens from hereon is up to you." he said, as if a riddling prophet was in his heart, soul, and mind. "If you don't mind… I believe I need to speak to you alone Mr. Molson." he eyed Gina. "I'm sorry Gina, but I hope you understand."

With an understanding nod, the girl with green hair was on her way. Once she was out the door, and shut the door, the scientific man looked at Philip. "It seems you are angry about something." he began, as he addressed the boy in a counseling manner. "Care to explain?" he asked in false wonder.

"I…" Phil thought, carefully considering his next words extra carefully. "Just didn't want the Totodile." his shifty eyes betrayed the honesty of his words. But he was transparent to the professor long before he arrived to the lab all together.

"I thought you were not one to lie." the professor shrugged, sighing afterwards as he moved on. "Getting to the point, I know you feel that this thing killed your sister."

This infuriated the boy. How he knew, he knew not. He would damn well be finding out, if his anger could be kept under wraps. "It did!" he exploded! "I saw it with my eyes! It's an abomination!" he stamped his foot in thunderous anger and would have cracked the earth open if he had the might of a god.

"I'm afraid your anger is fueled by a false lead." the man replied. "Working in the field of science and medicine isn't specialized right from the start." he added. "I helped the examination of the body. The way she apparently died was not the cause of this creature." he said, "Let the Totodile out of its Pokeball. I think it too should know all this." this was not a suggestion.

With an extreme game of mental warfare with his conscious, Phil hesitantly unleashed the aquatic reptile. "Ok, so now the killer is in the open!" he remarked.

Brenetmos however, ignored the snide words, and instead opted to continue speaking. "You think fate is being cruel and unjust." he explained. "But truth be told, I planned you to get this creature the whole time."

"Wh… WHAT!" he nearly exploded five times worse than before. His eyes went wider than a football with pupils bigger and more thunderous than bowling balls. "You… you traitor!" he blurted. He felt not only vengeful, but now he was deceived, betrayed, and backstabbed! "I feel the urge to kill you too, but you're not the murderer!" he bellowed in rage, tears nearly forming in watery eyes.

"Your anger is understandable. However, I assure you that this creature isn't a murderer." the professor explained as calmly as he could under this pressure. "Trust time, Phillip, to reveal all things." he explained. "I know you will see the truth. You may likely never find the true killer, but finding false alternatives will not help the matter in the least!" the mans face was flustered from the burning heat of the room. It was after all, nearly Summer, and living on an inland nation meant blazing heat. "I'm sure your sister wouldn't want you to kill an innocent."

"Fine." sighed Phillip in defeat as he picked up the Totodile by the nape of its neck and began to walk. As he escaped the sight of the sagely Pokemon expert, his grip tightened, and his words were quiet, yet angry. "Your life is going to be hell beyond the one you'll begging for in afterlife!" he roared silently. It seems, like the many teenagers of today, a word goes in one ear and swiftly tries to escape via the other. "I don't care what they say! I saw you and all your dastardly kin!" he glared the sharpest cutlery in existence as he did. He didn't care, those glared blades would become real agonizing pain for the reptile's leathery blue skin soon enough. The creature was verily returned to its ball, lest its most vile sight make him sick to his stomach.

Opening the door to the outdoors was a sudden change from the dimly air conditioned laboratory. His parents were outside waiting for him. His mother, much similarity could be seen in appearance from eyes to hair color, between her and him, but the facts were obvious that gender meant difference. In current state, her eyes were overflowing with worry. "NO!" she nearly shouted. "I will not lose my remaining child so soon!" she screamed, her eyes were overflowing with tears of tragic sadness. Her sadness was too much. "You're not going!" she scolded.

That, of course is where pops chimed in. In every way the image of his father, the only differences between son and father were hair color, eye color, and the absence of bodily adult graces, like hair growth akin to an abominable snow yeti. This man was Richard Molson. "Gloria, honey. Please…" he sighed. Women, they could be a hassle beyond the belief of the mysteries of the universe, but they meant well most of the time. She however, would hear no more, but was in no mood to fight over it. There had been enough bloodshed by far, and one never knows what happens, though it was extremely doubtful that any lash outs would exist.

With a sigh, the fatherly one looked to his son again. "She's just worried about you, my son." he said with honesty, "We both are."

"Oh, uh, I'll be… fine." he struggled. He wouldn't dare say 'Don't worry pops! I'm just going to take my sister's killer into the woods flay it alive and make nice (though blue) gator-skin goulashes, just for you. Happy Father's Day!' Such words would likely be wrong.  
"I hope so." he sighed to his son with concern, "So, what Pokemon did you get?" he asked, changing the subject, a certain tinge in his voice most hidden would suggest that the question was almost rhetorical.

"It's a Totodile." the son replied. The was no enthusiasm or distastefulness in his voice. It was as though he didn't care. Truth be known, he hated the creature more than anything in existence.

"Ah, yes… as Wilbur told me it would be…" his glance became serious. "Yes, I know all about this, son."

"Great…" his tone was thick with extreme sarcasm. "And what is your lecture, father?" he asked.

"There is none." he was after all a reasonable man, "A lecture would just be wasting both of our time as it travels in and out of your ears the instant I say it. I will however warn you that if you do hurt this innocent creature, I will never consider you my son again." his tone was serious, yet lacking of anger. It almost scared Phillip when his father talked like that.

"But dad! It…" he was interrupted. His father, apparently, had not completed his soliloquy of grand importance.

"Killed my beloved daughter… yes, that is what you believe. I however doubt that to the extreme. I would bet my life and football watching on that," that was big. Richard, like most adult men, was enamored with the sport of football. "And that is not a joke either." he added with true honesty.

The boy sighed, how could he dare say no to his own father. "Alright…" he trailed, his eyes shifting in every which direction to avoid eye contact.

"I know you're likely ignoring every word I say. You're young, you think you're right. I know, I was your age once, forty-one years ago." he began. "I'm sure even punishment as extreme as that which I've said cannot sway your mind. However, I know that time will each you best. I'm sure you'll learn to see the truth, and your zealous hate will soon be quelled."

The only response he received was a low grumble from his son as he kicked a rock along the sidewalk to occupy his complex mind.

"Regardless, if that's not enough for you, then I'm sure your sister wouldn't approve of such action. Losing it all before you could even begin." yes the riddling nature of complexity never ceases.

A vision rushed the lad's mind. It was a sight of death. Before him was a cave filled with blue gators lying dead in a river of their own water and blood. At the center he was, his mouth foaming like a rabid beast as he craved for more vengeance. Truly this wasn't villainous, was it? Yea right! A murderer deserves no right to life. After all, life was a privilege, a blessing. Taking one's own life, suicide was a matter of choice. But taking the life of another was plain wrong. All it was, was life for life. Wasn't that a fair trade?  
But such thought brought up he whole circular cycle of life, and one of man's greatest conquests, the food chain. But that's making use of what one kills. Though had there been nay a bloody, corporeal trace around, as several blue gators feasted upon his sister's remains, he'd probably be just as furious. No, he'd daresay, be even more loathsome and hell-bent towards the inquisition of their species in the fullest. An utter conquest of blood and water, both not nearly as thick as the barrier to the reasons against such preposterous ideas.

His father rubbed softly at the tip of his brow, wiping away a few trickling beads of forming sweat. "Your mother, of course, knows nothing about this. I'm afraid she wouldn't take it very well." he added to brighten the mood. It was probably the most positive thought both men had vocalized all day. Well, that is of course until, "Now, why not just quit your worrying for at least an hour and make peace at the very least for one last meal with your family for what may be quite a while." he licked his lips in anticipation. "I know how much you love when your mother makes meatballs, and I'd be more than inclined to agree." he smiled. 

Women, were after all, efficient in the field of cooking, and the horns of war could wait for one last hearty meal. "Dad, I'd love to." he smiled. It was after all, going to be a rough beginning, with a very likely chance that the reaper would be dragging some creeps down to hell.


	5. Days of Our Lies

I will catch things up to snuff soon enough. I just want to slowly and steadily keep people on the edge of their seat waiting for what happens next... if anyone even cares here.

**Dust to Deceit**

**Chapter 3: Day of Our Lies**

A batch of mother's delicious meatballs clears away sorrow and despair. It was the way of delicious food as their taste compels people to go back for more and more, until it was too late and a queasy feeling would envelope you in its cunning, viral grasp. But, such was the same with any addictive force, for everything has its deadly price.

"Well Phillip." is mother smiled weakly. Her notion of outliving her other son was none to pleasant. "I know it's wrong to tell you not to go, but be careful." It was not at all a question.

"I'll be fine mom…" the boy replied. His mind began to wander again. A feeling of guilt washed over him as though he had been hit by a typhoon. His eyes squinted as their gaze fixated down to the floor. The eyes were a gateway to the soul, and he didn't want his mother to see the taint that haunted his.

"Relax dear!" replied Richard. "I'm sure he'll be just fine." he stared at his son. "Nothing bad will happen, now will it?" he asked his son. The way he asked was sharp. Though fortunately his mother did not catch on, Phil was damned sure he knew the implications clearer than crystal, heck, they were clearer than a transparent screen door. All that the boy could muster was a nod.

As Phil glanced oh so quickly at his parents his eyes nearly watered. He would not want to break their hearts, but would keeping theirs unbroken mean leaving his to rot and bleed? It would be a pain that would not go away. "I guess this is… good bye." he spoke. Humanity still held its grip on his sanity.

"Take care of yourself." his father spoke, his eyes lighting up as a ray of hopeful thinking struck his brain. "And if worst comes to worst, just remember to let your Molson do the talking." he grinned.

And the young Molson could not help but chuckle at his father's words. As useless as advice as it was meant to be, the function was clear: laugh a little!

Yet, indeed it was a little, as he quickly strode forth from his house, and into the sunlight's glaring heat. He quickly slammed the door behind him. Revenge was nigh, no matter the cost! It was no longer even about his sister's departure to the afterlife! That had long since drowned itself out in a river of bloodlust.

"Adults…" he murmured grumpily to himself as he walked along the soft dirt road, kicking random rocks as he went, "They think I'm a some sort of insane, senseless jerk!' he mumbled. His kicking became more angry, and as such was backed with more and more force, forcing the dirt to fly up in front of him, creating a dusty cloud that oh so slightly blocked his vision with tan sand, though his pants and shoes were cakes with the tan colored sand.

His eyes wandered ahead. The lush pine trees and ferns surrounded him with a sight of greenery. Amongst them, flowers and plants of red and more splashed a nice blend of forest calm. Surely this was a place of peace, and its serenity would be not disturbed.

The scent of the forest was much invigorating as the chirping of birds and the noises of other animals also rang out in the forest's natural symphony of life. "How lively…" spoke the Molson boy aloud and to himself. "And yet, back a mile away, in Hallsburg, I feel unchanged." he shrugged.

Distanced from home at last! He was gone from Hallsburg now, but just because home was not so far behind, Phil wouldn't quite feel safe to commence with his plan just yet. Perhaps, a mile or so deep into the safety of the woods would bring the perfect spot, set just right for revenge.

As he walked, he noticed something that perked his interest. The hissing of angry voices perked his eyes to follow, and a vision of two purple mice playing tug of war with… something. He did not know what.

Their teeth, sharp and long were deeply sunk into each an end of the long object as they seemed to growl between one another. "Rattata…" he noted quietly. They were a common kind, but in no way pitiful beings. Their sharp teeth and lithe forms meant that they could be a dangerous force. "Why couldn't I have gotten one of those?" he nearly yelled to nobody at all.

It was at his voice that mice and man were now staring face to face. That was of course, until the timid, purple rodents jolted off at lightning speed to the sanctum of the shrubbery. Phil however, simply smirked as he looked to the discarded object they dropped when they fled… it was rope, simple every day rope, but there was a slight crimson to its tint… blood. It was dried of course, but at this point in time, Phil did not care.

"Weird…" he noted as he thought he could use it. 'A perfect thing to strangle a killer. Ha!' he grinned.

His trekking continued shortly after, and at not but a mile's distance, a small splotch of thick foliage felt oh so right for blood and glory. So out with the iron sphere, the prison where a criminal monster was stored, had opened, never to be used again.

The gator on its freedom glanced cautiously around it. Trees, plants, vegetation, all seemed such a pleasant sight, if it weren't for the scowl on the face of the angry human before him. As he grabbed forcefully on the creature's neck, his eyes flared wild with searing hate! "I hate you…" he spoke, calm yet angry. His other arm, extended to slap the creature in the side of its jaw large. It felt empowering to say the least.

The Totodile, on the other hand, recoiled as the physical attack made its contact. It did no scream. It did not cry. It simply stayed quiet as its eyes downcast to the grassy road went soft and sad.

"Murderous scum!" Phil sneered! His voice was filling with volume as his grip began to tighten around the creature's neck. Though the gator's mouth went wide, desperately trying to fill its being with oxygen, it did not scream. On the inside though, it was desperately, and deeply afraid. Afraid for its life… afraid for its trainer's life.

"You sicken me so much, demon!" his teeth gnashed. Had he tried, he could have bitten though a rock he was so angry. Hatred flooded his brain in a rush of agony. How lovely it would have been to ring this creature's neck. Had it not been for the words of his father though, he'd have long since been finished.

Instead, he opted for a mere violent toss to the ground with whatever strength his not so toned form could muster. Sufficient to be said that when you're hardly two feet tall, its not difficult to make a scratch, as small as it may be. It was the heart and soul that hurt the blue creature the most on its landing.

Phillip's eyes did their damned best to staunch the likely to occur flow of tears.

"Well?" Phil began as if expecting something to happen. "Go on. Get out of here!' his voice roared with anger mixed with the agonizing overpowering of peace! Go home to your murderer's cave," he sneered at the beast. "Get out of here before I change my mind!"

The blue one looked upwards towards its trainer. It looked at him with concern, with fear, with pity, with hope, but it did not see the human as an enemy. No, he was mislead, and found the wrong killer. The Totodile, could have spoken the human tongue would have told him everything, especially about the real killer. Alas, the best it would do is just chant its name in a raspy voice and piss him off.

On the other hand, it DID value and cherish its life, apparently amongst the wilds as it had been oh so recently. It knew the ay home. It was not far to the river cavern, and the forest was simple to navigate. Its pace however, was slow, its clawed reptilian feet dragging themselves forcefully through the soil, sullen look upon its face as though in a last ditch attempt, pity would bring softening heart.

But the Molson avenger was not bought by the act in the least. "I cannot stand the sight of you!" he yelled in harsher tones every time. A pebble made its way into his hand "Move faster!" he yelled again as he tossed the tiny mineral, striking the gator in the back of the neck, causing the creature to go into panic as is retreat became speedy, kicking up grass as its movement kicked up dirt and grass, leaving Phil, at long last, alone.

Finally, he had been rid of the creature. But to what avail? He knew not. 'It'll kill again. But it better not kill anything I know, or there will be no more warnings.' Phil mumbled quietly as he took some time to think about whatever he could. Ideas, memories, and recent events all raced through his mind, vying to consume his thoughts in more peaceful ideas.

The first to succeed were memories of hi sister. Sara Tanya Molson… she would be missed. The better of two siblings, she was smart, social, funny, forgiving, and always supportive. She had a curiosity that was never matched, and he knew she would go to help Mr. Brenetmos around the place, just because she was into animals. It was likely how Brenetmos knew correctly when he said she was a bit of a klutz, but in no way was she hazardous. Yes, she had flaws, one of which was a horrible secret that Phil never mentioned that he knew.

Though he never remembered exactly how he figured it out, he did well know that Sara was a bit of a, believe it or not, lesbian. 'I still don't know HOW I know that. She's only 12!' he chuckled. The laughter for a second lightened the hefty feeling weighing his heart down like a scale without balance. Fact is though, when you've lost someone, its almost impossible to start out by dwelling on the bad.

It was she who knew about Pokemon, not him. Phil knew little beyond the simple facts. It was she who was meant to be trainer anyway. He sighed, 'Even if all went well, I'd still have failed her almost indubitably.'

He needed to sit. His mind then wandered to this morning. How he was there, not Sara, waiting upon hopefully to take her dream far. There was also Gina. Yes, Gina Meshing, friend of his sister. How on earth had he rarely seen her before? Yes, he would hope to lay eyes on her again. He smiled, if not for a second, for following this thought was Brenetmos.

Yes, well respected, intelligent Mr. Brenetmos… was a scheming, conniving devil. He set Phil up, he did. His insane plans were beyond foolish, and doomed to fail. By doomed to fail, that of course meant doom the victim to failure. It made him wonder, 'What if I got a good Pokemon?' he thought. 'Like a Rattata.' Why not a Rattata? Though said to be small and frail, they were quite perseverant little beasts with their adaptability to almost any environment. The fangs they sported didn't look weak by any stretch of the imagination.

In short time, something else caught his eye, for flying in a blur of feathery grace was a brown, though small bird. As it soared carefully between the trees, it cawed out a word, presumably its name. "Or maybe a Pidgey…" Phil resumed his thoughts. He knew of these birds. They were everywhere, sort of like how Rattata were all over the place as well, but Pidgey were less cowardly, with their tendency to perch on telephone poles, fences and wire cables. At any rate, it'd have been better than the, accursed gator that he was given!

While Phil mulled around deep in his thoughts, Gina was trudging another neck of the woods (literally), her mind hardly weighted down by much. She was, after all, free. Free of the pain at home, and the misery of quarreling parents. Only the biting insects posed any form of true irritation.

As she smiled to the graceful songs of birds and beasts, the light in her heart did nothing but conceal an awkward onlooker as he watched from behind the shrubs. "Ooh, another girl!" the voice's owner smiled as he watched her approach the river. The voice's owner laughed a most freaky laugh. It was as though the possessor of the voice was on some form of illegal substance abuse. "Whee!" Somehow, there was an extremely obvious lack of sanity in whoever this person was.

It was then, that the person made its presence known. It was, without a doubt, male. Towering over the girl, his eyes seemed to wander everywhere, his smile seemed to stay locked in a most frightening smile that was definitely not quite a smirk. But his voice, it sounded as though it lacked any form of restraint in its words, and his actions seemed just as unstably random. "Hello girly!" he spoke, startling Gina from her peace. His face was indeed adultly, though distorted and contorted with pierced eyes, ears… almost everything had an earring in it. His freakishly unstable smile widened as he roared into his psychotic laughter yet again.

Phil smiled. It seemed he may get a chance to continue even without the Totodile, for an blue creature with a grassy green hairdo had drawn in close. That is of course, until a scream of terror filled the air, followed shortly after by the panicked flight of birds flapping madly into the wild blue skies as the shout's echo flooded through the trees. The blue creature too, had made itself scarce as well. "Oh no!" Phil's mind began poisoning itself yet again with vengeful thought. "Those murderous gators are going to kill another person!" Another scream rang his ears yet again, though this one seemed to be cut off forcefully. All he could do was follow the sound.

"Hey!" yelled as his scouring proved successful. It was by chance after all that this seemed damned close to where those Totodile lived like killers.

But the watery beasts were not the source of this problem. Instead, he saw what appeared to be a man pierced all about his body. His hair wild and spiked. "Lookie!" the wackjob spoke! "A witness to be destroyed!" he spoke, proving that optimistic feelings could be anywhere! "Hahahaha!" and then went his laugh. Phil had to cringe as he heard it. It sounded so horribly freaky, and oh so wrong.

To the left on the floor side was, he couldn't believe it, "Gina!" yes, it was Ms. Meshing. She was tied at the legs, and her hands were behind her back. Her mouth seemed to be gagged. "You!" he yelled to the man. "What the hell are you doing?" His mind was overflowing with worry and fear. He had seen enough deaths of people he knew. Phil would not let this freaky man kill her if

"Me?" the wacko asked, feigning innocence that failed in an instance. "I'm just Jimmy!" he shrugged. Again, he proceeded to laugh in his more chillingly feminine, insane voice. "I'm only having fun, playing shoot and stab with my latest catch." he spoke with pride, foolishly. It was then that Phil noticed the gun in his hand.

But the Molson looked on in worry. "You're insane!" he spat with immense hatred. He then remembered the rope he held. Could it have been possible?

Jimmy the nutcase let his eyes widen. "Ah, so my last fun catch was related to you. Ooh! How " he smiled in a the freakiest admiration ever seen. "I guess this means more fun for me." and he unleashed yet again that scary female laugh. "Now, if you don't mind, I need time to make the girl scream loudly! Whee!"

"Shut up! You won't dare!" Phil roared with tears as he lunged angrily. This was his sister's murderer all along. Oh how he should have listened to his father, to Mr. Brenetmos. They did not want to betray him, they wanted to help him, and he despised their ideas. The crazy man never saw it coming as Phil's balled and angrily tight clenched fist slammed into the man's jaw.

"Ooh! You're feisty!" he laughed. He didn't even seem to flinch to the pain, but considering how little he knew about physical fighting, it might have been unsurprising. "This'll be fun." he chided in his giddy, insane tone as he pointed the gun to Phil's head.

'This is the end!' Phil thought. A tear escaped his eye. He would never be able to appeal for this sin. He would die guilty.

Just down the river, a familiar blue gator was encroaching upon a cave. It was, after all, the order of his master. 'Go home.' those words rang in its mind. It would be home, and try to forget and forgive al that had happened. That was, of course, until the psycho laughter it knew too well had sounded, followed by what seemed to be a familiar voice. Perhaps, things could be straightened out after all, but time was not to be wasted.

Phil could not bear to watch the dishonorable feeling of his own death. 'I have failed. I failed not only myself, but my sister, the Totodile, and furthermore, I'm going to die!' As such, he shut his eyes as he was held tight in the psycho's grasp. It was then that he felt a force tingle upon his skin. The sound of gun shot however, was unheard heard.


	6. The Trial of Tears and Blood

**From the Dust of Deceit**

**Chapter 4: The Trial of Tears (and Blood)**

'Is this what it feels like to bleed?' Questioned Phillip from within his mind as he felt a strong force against him. 'Is this what its like to die?' his mind questioned again, 'Should I dare open my eyes to see the doomed afterlife I've succumbed to? It feels so cold, I must be fading...' he questioned consistently. Fear swept his mind, and like glue, fear kept his eyes shut until he had a damn good reason to open them.

"Ooh! My gun go flyyyy…" went a familiar psychotic voice. "Flying! Whee!" that laughter which followed, and the insane, effeminate tone. It could only mean one thing.

'This must be hell.' Phil's mind assumed. 'I'm hardly surprised.' he sighed, and, after much hesitation, opened his eyes to see what had happened.

From the blur of nothingness, the visions of the blue skies above and forest shrubs stood before him. "Welcome back sleepy head!" came an agitating voice, followed by an insidiously agonizing laughter. It was Jimmy! The whack job still held the boy firmly in his grasp, but as he looked to his hands, no gun could be found. But a look to the right and ten feet away, in the soft dirt nearby gave him his answer. Someone had disarmed this man, and did a damned good job of it too.

An answer to that stood before him in a rage of blue, armed with claws and teeth. "Totodile!" he called to the blue creature. "I know you must hate me, but I realize my mistake! If you can accept my apology…" Phillip's eyes were wild with fear as his mind knew what must be done, "Then please, untie Gina and get her out of here!" he was practically begging the creature to save her.

"Ooh! Croc! Croikey! I don't bring you enough dead bodies, you're spoiled little crocies!" rambled Jimmy in purely ecstatic insanity. "I see dead people!" he continued, as he rambled on about god knows how many famous, hip and hot TV and movie clichés and one liners. "Fly me to the moon in a batter of cake."

Phil's muscles tightened. This man was not going to get away with his crime. No, he was going to suffer. In spite of the fact that his psychotic smile never died, Jimmy would be hurting and badly at that. And that of course, is where Phil made his first attempted struggle, and a lash from his flailing feet went right to the man's shins. "You are going to regret so much!" he yelled as the man's grip loosened.

"Ooh, my foot feels funny." laughed the crazy one as his voice brought creepy feeling to all nearby. "Croccy wants to play! Whee!" he grinned as he noticed the blue gator rescuing damsel in distress.

The creature's claws wildly swiped at the rope on her hands, attempting to cut it off in as many fell swipes as its little claws could. It was to no avail. All it did was wear down its nails as they reddened in soreness as all they did were an extremely slow deterioration, not too mention a few inaccurate swipes causing bruises to the poor lass in question. It seemed that the girl would have to wait, or else risk shredding her up, and facing the guilt of murder.

As it looked towards its struggling trainer, the Totodile had a better idea. Though not exactly safe as it was, fighting would be the only answer. The human boy pleaded for apology, and that had meant he knew the truth. Indeed, it helped immensely. It was not about to let all that be smashed and eviscerated by a simple madman. With a deep breath, it went to work pitting its animal prowess against the madness of a man.

"Words cannot describe my anger!" Phil sneered as his foot took another swipe at the man's bruising shins. His grip on the boy had loosened at last, leaving Phil's hands free to strangle, punch, or gouge out as freely as he'd wish. "You're not fit to be alive, scum!" he roared, taking a punch at the man's stomach. His fist only connected with an open palm. After all, an important rule of keeping your hide alive, never hit a crazy person. The Molson boy had nearly sealed his fate.

"You're a fun dancer. Let's boogie!" he grinned as his fist flew towards the boys jaw with an immense force. There was no way he could block it. His hand was parried and gripped tightly. His other hand was at the wrong side of his face. How on earth this psycho managed to grab a hook from the right with his left hand was beyond Phil, but it hardly mattered now.

It was then that a blue meteor of reptilian hide smashed head first into the man's gullet. Its force was strong, and got quite the reaction the laws of physics would deem fit, sending the psycho sprawling to the ground on his side. Yet, as he fell, he laughed yet again. His feminine laugh did not dither or choke on a syllable as its accursed sound rang through all ears present. His smile and enthusiasm seemed as great as ever. "Whee!"

Phil took no time to wait. Mustering whatever force he could, he darted upon the smiling, fallen body and sent his fists as many times as possible to the mans face and nose. Every ounce of blood he shed would be a victory in itself in his mind. Revenge was long overdue, and this time, his attacks were not repelled by psychotic arms. He was not about to wait. After all, a fair fight was out of the question when he'd already been pointed at with a gun.

Punch after punch as both of Phil's fists swung wildly, empowered by an enormous backing of adrenaline. But no matter how badly his face would bruise, especially where the openings around the piercings on his face began to loose blood, he could not hurt this man's smile. It just lingered as he laughed every now and then, even after blood was clearly running down the side of his face. "This is it monster!" Phil panted heavy in the midst of rage and fury. "Send my regards to whoever takes care of evil scum like you in the afterlife!" his voice was rasped, filled with an overflowing berserk harshness. "Tell him to save me a nice spot someday!" he roared. The look on his face was weird. Instead of being angry and gritted teeth, Phil was grinning wildly. He almost sounded proud as he rang out the short soliloquy towards the cur of a criminal.

Gina, from her helpless and vulnerable state was moving and struggling against the flow of the bonds. It wasn't easy, but with thanks to a stroke of luck, stacked upon the sloppily done job at mouth gag, Gina was able to a few words in. "Wait!" she shouted.

Her voice, it was a sense of refreshment that washed over Phil's entire being and soul. With a quick jab to the murderer's stomach, he scowled. "Don't even try to move!" he warned darkly, only to be met by more insidious laughter. Phil shuddered as he heard that jerk's laughter for the umpteenth time in the last hour or so. A rush of sadness swept through his being. There was Gina, tied up and a tad bruised, asking him to hold back for just but a moment. He would have to be as crazy as the man he was throttling to death to not listen. "What is it?" his voice was that of concern as he ran towards her, pulling the gag from her mouth at long last after what felt like an eternity in one mere hour.

Her eyes were pleading. "Don't kill him." she seemed to beg. Her eyes were watering up, "I know he's a cruel person, but please." she couldn't hold it back. Tears stream down her cheeks. "Just no killing today." she pleaded, wishing she could wipe the tears from her eyes.

Phil himself, could see the true sadness in her eyes. A fear swept over him. 'Dear god!' he figured. 'I'm nothing but an abomination!' and at long last, a softness touched his heart. "I must admire you." he admitted. "But I'm not letting him off the hook, woman! Do you realize what he did?" he sighed. He simply couldn't leave a cruel monstrosity like this to roam the world wild and hazardous to all.

Without needing to be told, Phil fulfilled in ten seconds what a Pokemon had strained with risky and effort to do… he untied the ropes. Then again, when you have the advantage of human fingers, opposable thumb especially, its really not as stellar as it sounds.

"Aw, how cute!" spoke Jimmy, going wide eyed and sickly. "Cooties! Cooties! Cooties!" he raved wildly, rather beaten and dazed on the soft soil. The ground soaked up the blood from his face as he lips still maintained its insane smile. He wasn't going to be going anywhere at all.

Gina's eyes began to dry just a bit, as she rubbed a the salty tear trickling down her cheek. "Thank you, Phil." she smiled as strongly as she could. It was a failing smile however hard she try, and it wavered, waiting to go back to the crying it longed for, letting troubles flush and drown away in tears.

But Phil wasn't feeling very thanks worthy. No, he hadn't quite been successful yet. "Hold still!" he yelled to the crazy man as he hauled back to him holding many pieces of untied rope.

It wasn't easy to restrain him. His psychotic giggles grating deep into the skull, his sudden outbursts and giddy shaking and struggling did not make things easy by any stretch. In the end however, Phil managed to tie the man's arms firmly behind his back, and his legs tied together at just above the tongue of his shoes. Tying his mouth shut was much too risky. Every time his hands grew near, a pair of crazy teeth would try and snap at him like a wild tortoise.

Fearing the worst, Phil knew he might not let go had he grasped anything in his teeth. Had he given him a stone, it'd likely be crushed to dust before his teeth would realize that they needed to feel the pain of such a force.

"You're lucky that the girl over there has a goodly heart! Otherwise yours would be bleeding on a platter after I'd rip it from your black blooded existence." taunted the Molson avenger. The empowering feeling behind this victory was unbelievable. He wanted to do it again, and again. And whenever Gina would have a change of heart and mind, the villains black heart would be dubbed an heirloom even if he had to dub it as such himself.

The man was now fully restrained. Such was a costly victory. The blue reptilian knew its master had won the day. It approached him cautiously, standing there, waiting as though something were to happen. Its head was downcast, water filling slightly in its eyes. Phil of course, stared back. "Well, are we going to be friends yet," his voice cracked as the contagious feeling of sadness crept to him as well. "Or do we both have to be in a river of tears first." As that was said, he too would lose control of his tear ducts as boy and beast embraced. The beast, tears of joy and acceptance, while the boy filled with guilt, shame, regret, and fear. "I'm so sorry." he repeated. It felt so needed. He needed to let the sorrow he so truly felt be known.

Gina stared on as the brown haired boy as he was at long last at peace with a wrongly accused killer. She felt so weak, so wronged. 'I agreed to Brenetmos' plan to set those two up.' she sighed. She had no idea that the magnitude of the setup would be so dire. A hatred so grand, and of course, Jimmy was nowhere in the plans. That was just unfortunate.

With a sigh, and a blink of her reddened tear dried eyes, she assessed the boy again. He saved her life from certain doom. No doubt, somewhere within him, 'He felt… he was saving his sister deep inside.' she concluded. It was unquestionably obvious! Suffice to say that there's no complaint needed when you're still alive thankfully. Still, why him. Him to see her weak and vulnerable. It made her want to cry, the embarrassment and shame she felt.

It was then, that a the sound of a loud choking sound was emitted from crazy man's dangerous mouth, followed afterwards by a repulsive wad of saliva and phlegm. "Pu'me on the spit! Pu'me on the spit! Whee!" his exuberance was enough to make her vomit, and his ropes were not holding a firm enough grip.

'He could use my help.' Gina figured, as she fingered the Pokeball in her belt. It would be, as of this morning, the first time she had opened the red and white contraption. She fingered the sphere at the half way point between color changes. 'Already Phil's gotten to know his Pokemon a bit, even if by dangerous means, and I've yet to even know anything about my Bulbasaur.' she considered the facts. Perhaps, a tinge of jealousy was pulsing through her veins. "Well…" she figured, cautiously tossing the Pokeball to the ground as it spiraled rapidly, causing a sight of pink to appear till it collided with the soft sandy grass.

In a flash of energetic red light, a stout, green quadruped emerged. Its face distorted immediately into a look of confusion. Looking a tad timid, it stepped towards the trainer carefully. Its voice perked as it chanted its name. Its voice, groggy in a high pitch sort of way as it looked up to the girl that stood before it. There was no doubt in its verdant mind that this person was its master.

"Hello there." the human girl spoke to it. Her voice, mustering as much friendliness as possible. First impressions go long ways after all, and unlike Phil, she didn't think she'd have the courage to go on if tension between her and her very first Pokemon were to arise. Being brave, she decided to extend her hand to the verdant dinosaur before that stood before her, patting the seedy growth upon its back carefully and softly. Its texture was surprisingly smooth, and felt a bit delicate, like a soft flower waiting to bloom.

It smiled to the delicate fingers that glided like a gentle wind, only softer. It chanted its name again, obviously in delight. It seemed that there'd be no discontent between these two.

"Bulbasaur." went the green haired girl as she addressed the pokemon. "I'm going to need your help." she said. The creature before her nodded once as the human girl pointed to Phil, who was struggling slightly at keeping the crazy man down, his Totodile doing his best to help as well. "I believe you have a move called Vine Whip." she recalled, hoping her assumption was indeed correct. With the green one's nod of confirmation, she gave her first ever command to her very first Pokemon. "Ok, see that man tied up over there?" she asked the beast, patting it atop the orifice atop its backside. "See if you can wrap some vines around that man's wrists and ankles."

From the side of its back two seemingly think and flimsy green lines seemed to sprout. These were vines, clear and smooth, only at the tips of the vines were widened bulbs that seemed to look sturdy, as though they served as the true muscle behind the might of this vinery "Hold him still just a bit longer." Gina's voice rang loud as she caught Phil's attention.

As he looked up, he saw what appeared to be flying green rope wafting and wavering gently to the calm winds. This 'rope' had the simplistic scent of fresh cut grass. As swiftly as the ropes of green whipped towards the fallen psycho, its ropey nature began to go to work, as it quickly entangled the man with the sturdiness and endurance beyond that of the real thing.

All in all, they had finally restrained the social misfit in tight binding which he would not likely be escaping. Though still remaining was the problem of the madman's wayward, spontaneous voice box, as its randomness would put a real Tourette's sufferer to shame.

"Now all we need to do is figure out how to haul his sorry excuse of existence out of her." sighed Phillip. Indeed, even with a combined effort, both humans would have great trouble carrying their caught criminal anywhere. It was then that a loud, churning roar would sound. It was his stomach. "Oh god I'm, starved." he noted.

"We can stop for a bit if you're that hungry." noted Gina, as the thought of eating made her stomach churn in neediness. She saddened though. "But, we have nothing to eat. How are we going to get food?"

It was then that Phillip had an idea. Were he a cartoon, a light bulb would have appeared and shone brightly for millenniums to come. "Hey Totodile!" he called to the blue croc beside him. "How do you see your food around these parts?" The crocodile's face contorted into a sly smile, Phil would have sworn it was a grin as it motioned with a clawed finger for the human to follow, which he did in a heartbeat, kicking up the dusty sand as his quick pace lead them towards the river and caves.

"Well Bulbasaur…" went Gina as she was left all alone at this point. Just a girl and her Pokemon. "You Have any ideas of good food to find around here?" she asked. She was curious. After all, it'd be a good way to learn to get to know her new Pokemon a bit better.

With half a name chant, the verdant dino smiled, pointing one of its front legs towards a group of bushes off a tad away from the river. Obviously, it was telling the human girl to follow its lead.

As bushes were tossed aside, the plant creature extended from its body another set of vines. What await was a great big bush and vine, and small red, spherical berries, fresh, glistening the reflection of the setting sun. Food it was, and good to eat, so it seemed.

With a quick and careful motion, the dinosaur gently wrapped one of its ropey vines around one of the berries. From there, it put the berry into its mouth to seemingly swallow in one gulp. When it finished however, it promptly seemed to spit out what seemed to be an inedible little seed. As it connected with the dirt, the creature's claw seemed to reach the dirt and cover the promise of a flower to be. Satisfied at this, it smiled as it looked at its trainer.

Meanwhile, back at the river cave, Phil and his aquatic reptilian friend are now. "So… I guess you're going to fish then." he shrugged. Truth be told, there were no gripes from him about fish fillet.

With a nod, the Totodile looked toward the nearby cave. Its face distorted to confusion of what to do. Should it stop by at home for one last visit ever, or just move on now? It eyed the cave as it stood just a bit in the distance, noticing a few others of its kin, and bigger, more powerful looking gators as well.

"Something wrong there?" the human asked. Indeed, so it seemed, for the gator nodded its head swiftly as its clawed fingers pointed to the caves of its home. The Pokemon's eyes looked pleading as it stared at its master.

"Ah, I see. Your family I take it." he understood. 'I never got to say goodbye to my sister.' the thought yielded just but one tear, which trickled swiftly down his face. "You may say your goodbyes."

The gator however, was not about to leave it at just that. It tugged gently upon the human's arm, doing its best to avoid clawing it to a bloody state. The message seemed very clear.

Phil's eyes went wide like watermelons, "Me, meet your family?" He was aghast! Sure, he had forgiven one Totodile, but his presence may make scales and red spines stand on edge, as well as claws and teeth bear themselves for defense, and rend his skin painfully.

The crocodile however, didn't seem to care. It was do or die, and the croc wasn't gonna let it be die. No more would things equate to die. Looking in the direction of the small cavern, it roared its species name loudly into the air, attracting the presence of all kinds of blue gators. As enough crocodiles to send an ivory hunter into seizures made themselves known, the one whom had the human seemed to speak to its reptilian brethren.

Phil, knew not what was said, nor did he care. Thoughts of vengeance however had long since become that of obscurity. Now, he only hoped it was not too late to repent. "Uh, hello." he spoke nervously. Blue gators eyed him oddly, but in their eyes, the Molson boy could tell that they were not vicious.

As for Phil's gator, it seemed to finish speaking, ending with a nod of its head. At that, the biggest crocodile of all time seemed to be present. Compared to a regular Totodile, this thing looked dangerous, with sharp claws, big teeth, and protective fat. But Phil's Pokemon showed no fear as it hugged at the leg of this behemoth, who in turn, gently patted the smaller creature upon the head.

After a few more times hearing raspy voices bellow the name Totodile, and bigger voices roaring names he didn't quite catch amongst the chatter, it was time to go. Clawed hands of all sizes leapt into the air, waving back in forth, as they saw one from their family for what may have been the last time.

"Well there." Phil sighed in relief as he and his Pokemon made slow paced tracks back towards the river. "How about that food finding?" A grin plastered itself upon he gator as it ran right to the edge of the water. Its color was brown, thanks in part mostly to the rocks and mud that littered its floor, but was quite easily possible to see deep into it. Creatures of all kinds swam its calm waters as they darted back and forth.

The Totodile let its tongue wander the length of its long, pronounced snout as it looked into the calm, mostly clear water. It was obvious that thus wasn't going to be a herbivorous search.

Phil however, was rather helpless to do anything. "I guess its up to you." smiled Phil as the Totodile lunged into the water. The hunt had begun!

Blue claws lashed out at the first helpless fish it could find. The creature victimized looked red, but was blurred by the waves created to the tango of the great hunt. In a big splash, the crocodile leapt out of the water, and with it came a helpless looking red fish with what appeared to be a crown of yellow fins decorating its head, even redder than before with blood leaking from newly formed scratch marks. It yelped in pain what apparently must have been its name.

Quickly before the fish hit the water, the Totodile's teeth lunged at the creature's neck, biting sharply like a demonic vampire who had reawakened after thousands of years. Its force was deep into its neck. Blood began to flow like a faucet on full blast. The fish had a sealed fate.

At a splash, croc and prey hit the water once more with prey held firmly in razor sharp jaws. As it flailed away the last of its existence, its gills desperately eking any hope of survival. To no avail as it was violently tossed to the dry land. It's last muttered word, gurgled in a mesh of blood would be 'Karp'.

"Hmm, I guess this will do just fine." the human shrugged. It was small, but beggars cant be choosers.

The gator however was not finished, so it seemed, for the gator seemed to leap out of the water yet again, another fishy beast of food. It's body, glistening orange. The shine of the reflective sun made a golden tint off its shiny scales. Its white underbelly was covered in a crimson covering. It however, seemed to be able to fight back for its life. Adorning its head looked to be a razor sharp horn, its solid, sharp look put a fear into the Molson boy as he watched the circle of life in action. Carefully as possible, the gator would not go 'head to head' with the goldfish, opting for indeed its own safety as it swiftly angled itself to the right.

Avoiding the onslaught of this spiked object, it only managed to nick the gator's small yet sturdy arm. In a splash, both aquatic warriors were back beneath the waves, the water murky with reddish brown as the goldfish flopped to the surface in desperation. Its well pronounced fins were seemed severed in spots, and it too, like the fish before it, was destined to be dinner. With what seemed to be a powerful swipe, the creature was sent to the dirt ground, flopping desperately to return to its watery salvation. It would not make it.

It was weak, defenseless and dying. Without the mobility of the water, it had no hope of fighting back the gator onslaught as, like the fish before it, it received a mighty throat jab from vicious incisors. Its last breath was there after by about four seconds.

The human stared in awe. The blood that was spilled should have been a horrible sight. He had, after all, wiped all thinking of that kind from his mind. At least, he hoped he had. Fact was though that he liked it, and not just because this spilled blood would fill his starving innards. There was something else, something deeper. He knew not himself either. 'I'm just hungry, that's all.'

He looked back to the crocodile. It looked ready to find more feast. "Hey! We have enough, I think." the human called out, disrupting instinct's controlling ways. In a leap, the small croc was standing on the dry land as it shook its wet body wildly like a post-bathed canine, though scales don't really fluff about like fur does. With a sigh of discontent, the gator complied to the commands of its trainer.

"We have far more than enough." the human sighed. He didn't really feel all that hungry the more he thought about it. The human grabbed the fish by their tail fins both in one hand, and carried them upon his back.

Meeting back where a crazy nut job was swaying back and forth hap hazardously while still laughing in that shrill, disgusting voice. "Whee! Yay to the fishes in the deep blue sea!" e began to ramble yet again. The blood on his face had long since dried, leaving scratch marks, bruises, and scars that may last forever. Those scars would never be enough to compensate for the great scar he left on the people he's hurt.

Gina had long since returned. With her, she held a splendor of deeply red… berries. Their juiciness seemed to be unable to contain themselves as it flowed its extraneous nature to even the slightest motion.

Gina herself eyed carefully what Phil held in his hand. Fish! Blood covered, deceased fish. Their still present, yet rapidly drying blood sent a chill down her spine. She would be sticking to fruit tonight, thank you very much!

"So," the Molson boy glanced to the master hunter. "You just eat these raw?" he asked. They had no way to start a fire, and Phil wasn't about to start playing with rocks and sticks. The flames could spread, and fires could break out. As rare as that was, he would not risk it.

The croc nodded, taking the smaller, red fish from the human's hand, biting into it with a longing hunger. The human eyed him wearily. With a shrug, he figured he might as well. Worst comes to worst, all he does is hurt himself. Looking at the horned fish in his hand, he figured that sharp horns aren't very good to eat. Flipping the fish upside down, he took a cautious bite. He'd finish the entire thing, leaving a pile of bones, and a detached horn to decay into obscurity.

After what had to be his oddest, but not worst, meal ever, Phil was stuffed. Fish fat may be healthy, but fat is fat, and well, it makes you fat! His eyes roamed carefully to the psychopathic man, who still sang annoying words and laughed maliciously. "Whee!" his quirky voice rang loud. "Save some for later, hungry boy!"

Phil eyed the fish horn he had discarded on the ground. It's sharp edge could gut that man cleanly and satisfyingly. 'No, no more killing!' he remembered. "Well, we should move out. I say we bring this man to the nearest town and call someone to get this schmuck out of my sight! But how?" he wondered yet again.

It was Gina's Pokemon to the rescue this time. As more vines seemed to magically spring forth and grow from its sides, they wrapped carefully around the already made roping. Then these vines pulled the man into the air as the Bulbasaur bellowed with might. The crazy man was lifted into the air by his tied arms and legs to sway slightly like a pendulum in a clock. It did not deter his craziness in the least.

"I want to fly like a Wingul," the nutcase sung merrily as he was heaved into the air. "I wanna fly like a Wingul, my spirit free. Fly like a Wingul cuz they'll never capture me! I want to FLYYYYY, Whee!"

"Well..." Gina shrugged, ignoring the man's odd words. "We may not get to Feltinrel by tonight." she figured. "I guess we just cover as much ground as possible." Fact was, after a day like today, sleep would be a welcome escape for the few hours it lasts.

With a sigh, Phil complied as the green dinosaur seemed to easily hold the man by its forestry formed ropes. The path winded It was going to be a LOOOOONG evening. Let alone, getting the sun to set would seem to be a chore. It would, however, be worth the call of justice.


	7. The Farce Will Be With You, Always

1**Dust to Deceit**

**Chapter 5: The Farce Will Be With You, Always**

An hour, two hours, not longer than two though, it felt like five centuries awaiting the setting of the mighty solar orb in the sky, but time stands still for NOBODY!

"How much further?" wondered Phillip as he looked but a tad battered. It was understandable though. H did have one hell of a day after all, and its almost surprising that he hadn't collapsed sooner. His feel began to drag, dirt, soil, and sand, while grass began to stain the bottom of his shoes.

Gina blinked, thinking for about two seconds. "Hmm…" her mind wandered towards second thoughts. Surely a town was near enough to walk to, and nigh unto night or morning, they could sleep till they never needed rest again. But as yawn after yawn escaped from the very soul itself, sleep was not going to be a patient little pest. "I guess we could rest out here…" she was hesitant. Suffice to say, she had her reasons, and indeed they were good ones.

Truly there was some sorts of evils and dangers lurking in the darkness and shadows of the night. Some evil wrapping its malicious tendrils of vile blasphemy waiting for the oh so right chance to sew discord throughout the land… "And then I'll make spaghetti curled into a big pile of soap and throw it at the neighbors. WHEE!" Then again, its likely there was no off button on that man, meaning more for them. He surely wasn't going anywhere, and what better way to scare people away than with your very own restrained, pet psychopath. That poor little dinosaur must have been straining to hold a wack job like Jimmy. It'd hopefully not be long before it would all be over.

Regardless, that would not keep bug bites, cold evening air, and other fearless hazards away from them. "Great!" rang the Molson's voice, hiding the actual lack of enthusiasm. Truth be told, he did not think, rather, he knew that sleep would not come easy tonight.

The boy's eyes wandered skyward, gazing at the blackening sky with deep thoughts and intensity. Specs and dots of light shrouded by sky blue dusts broke free of their grasp, visual to all who'd wish to gaze upon the spectrum of sheer and splendorous heaven lights!

It was fortune that a clear opening of soft grass and decent space. It'd be sufficient and serve purpose of resting for the night. It was probably not even ten o'clock yet, but they didn't care, let the escape of sleep make things better, even with creepy laughter ringing through the ears.

They had no sleeping bags. It'd be sleeping in nature's mattresses of choice, the soft, yet indubitably to be wet grass, the sand, somewhat rougher a surface, and worse yet it'd be not so comfy as you turn into a sand dune. Not cleaning up afterwards would be dumb and boorish. Then again, there was the soil: Soft and black, this dirt would stain clothes darkly, but it'd be cozy, if not for the fact that plants were busy using it for a growth spot. Indeed, kids on a day like this would nay dare invoke nature's wrath. There was also those rocks over there where Phil had decided to sit, gazing into the sky. Rough, hardened, and uncomfortable, those were the only possible drawbacks to sitting on the uneven leveled surface of stones. Other than that, nothing would side effect them in waking hour, except of course for a sore back. All in all, grass seemed to have a landslide vote.

Speaking of rocks, or rather Phil sitting on the stone surface, his eyes gazed skyward in a fixation. He felt so alone, so vulnerable… so useless. He hardly heard Gina as she approached the boy, placing a hand gently on his shoulder in concern. "Phillip…" she began, sadly at a shortage of ideas of idle chatter to make time flow faster.

He jumped startled for a second as he felt her hand touch his shoulder. Calm, warm, and not rough at all, his mind was too deep in its thoughts to be pulled out by a mere human hand. Instead, these thoughts would probably pull that hand, and person who's hand it belonged to, right into it. "Look up into the sky." he said. He hardly waited for her. He had bottled emotions of fear and torment, and sooner or later, that bottle will realize it is only made of glass, the delicate, crafted works of sand that they are. Sooner or later, it would shatter, letting free the contents they held, or simply causing all to break down. Even with out breaking, a bottle is but a transparent entity, and sooner or later, all would be known before breaking the bottle. "Just do it!" he repeated.

There would be no harm in doing so, Gina complied, gazing the sky with her eyes. The splendor of bright stars was more intense, the haze of summer nights not quite gripping the land in its curse, as more blotches of beautiful light littered the sky, all visible through the open location, thankfully left unblocked by the trees. "It's… beautiful!" she stared as well.

"It's terrifying!" Phil said, not even hearing her words. "These lights are larger and further than life can fathom. Some, for all we know, don't even exist, but their sheer distance means we still see their light." he sighed, continuing his dramatic monolog. "But they still inch their way to any eyes that can block out, or fortunately be unaware the fearful truths of the grand scheme of the universe." he took another breath. He needed it! "We are… insignificant, meager. We too will be long gone some day." a tear formed at his right eye, bringing with the salty waters a sense of unreflecting awareness to the world around him. He gazed at Gina, her brown eyes wide with astonished silence, fear no doubt. It was very understandable. He blinked, glancing to her again. "Uh, I'm sorry." he frowned. "I didn't mean to scare you."

He wouldn't dream of scaring her. It'd be wrong. He'd hurt her. He'd never forgive himself if she were hurt. 'She doesn't deserve a burden like me.' he realized, his head, now downcast to the dark ground below him.

"You worry too much." she began, her voice, timid and hesitant. She took a second to think things through. "One day… we will all be gone. None of what you says will even matter. We wont be around to worry about it." her voice saddened at that thought. "Just don't worry." she smiled, its warm and contagious nature made his mouth shift into a smile as well, though a weak one. The boy stood up at that. "Where are you going?"

The Molson turned to her, "Well, I doubt you'd really like knowing, but I'm going to that tree over there to urinate." he shrugged as he walked off. As they say, feel natural, nature's way!

"I'll just pretend I didn't hear that." mumbled Gina quietly, a bit flustered to the words he spoke, glad for the darkness and the fact nobody was looking at her.

Yet, there was one other human who heard everything. "Pew love!" spoke a childishly insane voice, ala Jimmy. "How sweet!" he then went on to his malicious giggle, just because it'd be wrong if he didn't every damn time!

Clearing the bladder was, well, a tad refreshing for Phil. The details though are nowhere to be found. But as he finished up, it seems the fateful gator decided to approach his trainer. With a quiet, raspy chant of its name, its presence was known to him. The boy's eyes quickly shifted towards the reptile, deciding he might as well get to know it better. "Hey there." he smiled, though it was forced and weak. Considering that its not even been twenty-four hours yet and life seemed to suddenly suck spherical objects, it's a surprise he was still alive.

The Totodile nodded its head but once in acknowledgment. What the heck could the boy say anyway. This was a Pokemon. It seemed to understand any words spoken to it just fine, but he hadn't even the slightest clue as to what it could possibly say in return. Baffled, Phillip stayed quiet, gazing to the land around him. Unfortunately, in the shadows of the night, he didn't see much. Seemed as though all that was up and awake was some weird green spiders and a familiar curly tailed rat with purple, ratty fur.

Staring at the creature, it seemed to just go about its daily… or rather, nightly life, as its small legs brought it swiftly across the nightly meadows, breathing fire to light its path… wait a sec! Phil blinked wildly at that one. Red hot flames formed at the tip of the rat's tooth, carefully wafting around its sharp teeth to light up a good amount of greenery about it, the flames taking on a spiraled shape like a buzz saw, and rotating just as quickly. Were it made of some solid substance, that bladed disc could probably split the planet in half had it been tossed by the one with the might of a god.

"I must be really tired." Phil mumbled. Funny… he didn't seem to feel THAT tired. Regardless, he knew that a Rattata couldn't breath fire. He truly must have been seeing things. He blinked once, but the white hot light was still illuminating the trees to a bright forest green.

After a minute more of the blazing light and illumination, it seemed to disperse, dissipating harmlessly into thin air, in nothing but a cloud of smoke, hidden as it became suddenly shrouded in the darkness of night, their colors complimenting each other as a silent puff of smoke hit the air.

"I'm insane…" the boy stated calmly. "Now I finally understand my stability." he joked to nobody.

He hardly noticed a small green creature approaching nearby. Hairs, short, yet noticeable grew along its body of chitin. Its yellowy, black striped legs also had tarantula hairs growing meshed about. And adorning its head was a rather wide, flat spike, hardly dangerous in the least.

"Eh? You heard nothing!" the boy grinned as he spoke to the Totodile, not quite looking at the creature, as he began reaching down to stroke gently the scaly skin of the reptilian Pokemon, whom he had learned was not his enemy. Instead, a hairy, filmy skin was what his fingers found, gliding along the surface suspiciously.

It didn't go long, for after three seconds, a strange pair of pinching teeth bit into his hand, the boy yelped in pain. The spider was scared. Its voice piped up, naturally, the only word spoken was its name as it looked upwards towards the human. It was scared. Its bite was relatively not lethal. No! There would be no poison on the first bite. After all, why waste precious venom on something that may not need it. Suffice to say, there was no way that an average human would know that much.

"Yow!" went Phil, as he retracted his hand quickly. Looking down, he saw a pair of buggy eyes staring back up at him. His hand, punctured with the piercing spider fangs, pulsated like a rapid heart beat, fiercely in pain. Thankfully it didn't draw blood, though his palm did have two very prominent, and easily noticeable puncture marks. The creature spoke again, words lost to a lack of lingual capabilities. Its dialog simply sounded like 'Spinirak'.

Suffice to say, the blue gator was standing at the other side of the boy, and it damn sure wasn't just going to stand around helplessly. Not a chance! It was, after all, a hunter at heart, and the hunter lives for the hunt. In a swift motion, its claws opened as it swiftly leapt to the left around the boy's legs. As it ended, it leapt again, these razor sharp phalanges swiftly sunk deep into the creature's flimsy chitin, white liquid oozing at the deep puncture.

Its bug eyes widening, it swiftly proceeded as it opened its insect mouth yet again. Instead of vicious fangs and teeth, a white, dry and sticky string began dancing in the air, wrapping itself around anything it could cling to. It spoke, repeating its own name over and over as its constrictive silk wrapped itself around the defensive Totodile's waist, pulling its arms to its side as it roped around him.

Poor bug however was outnumbered. Phil wasn't going to let Totodile fight this and lose. After all, this little bug didn't stand that much taller than the lad's foot. At such a fact, why not help our your Pokemon and give it a good kick! Verily, he proceeded to do just that. With a quick motion, his foot went flying straight for the creature's thorax, breaking its careful web weaving as it unleashed a gasp of pain, yelling loudly its name as it keeled over in pain. It was not really expecting a battle.

"Well then…" the boy trailed off. "Let's go back and catch some sleep." he paused, suddenly something snapped. A memory. Yes! A memory of a few days back. It was his sister. She was so excited, talking, laughing and hardly able to contain herself as she gossiped on and on about a grand adventure that was to be. Somehow, all these words seemed useless back then, but now it stirred and swirled like a vicious black hole, letting nothing escape… not even light! Yes, she said something about Pokemon. Something… catch. Yes, it was that word he had just said that made his mind wander to that. Catch… yes. Something about fighting Pokemon. Throw… throw the sphere. The boy was deep at work in his mind.

Phil's brain raced about as it quickly tried to understand and divulge what had been said that day. Racing, his mind beginning to stretch like putty the size of a mountain, easily circling the earth thrice over due to the elongation potential. Weaken, yes, that was a word she used as well… "HUZZAH!" he knew it now as both mind and mouth seemed to blurt it out in unison!

He reached to his pack to take a pokeball. To throw, or not to throw? That was the question. A creature so brave as to take a swipe at him from nowhere. Yes, he liked that. This thing had spunk! And now, oh man would it be fun to make this creature conform to every command possible. Yes, it would conform to the might and manipulation of man.

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts. He could not believe it. His mind had wandered to malicious intent! Villainous, cruel ideas and treatment. This would not become of his sister were she in his place. He simply HAD to stop thinking, ASAP! Without another game of mental warfare, he quickly grasped to his belt. His fingers rapped against the white of the poke ball twice, and then it was gone from his hand! Smacking against the green arachnid, it opened like a Pac-Man and oh so suddenly suddenly turned the beast into a ray of red light, glowing lightly for a second. Then the light was gone, leaving only a closed ball that seemed to dance vibrantly on the ground. Shaking about, the ball rolled about, smacking against a tree, bouncing one or two inches, landing more hushed than a pin drop as the grass softened its fall. After a short boogie, the ball seemed to have had enough. It was silent and still, save for a slight fading noise.

'Did I do that!' Phil's eyes widened. Most would be jumping for joy and calling themselves the king of Earth at their first capture. Not Phil though. 'I… I did it all by myself!' his hand moved involuntarily, grasping the ball in his fingers as he looked at it in shock. And of course, just to ruin the excitement, his hand reminded him of what it had as it stung to the grasping of the poke ball. He winced!

It was at this point that a rasp voiced crocodile, who had long since bit free of its constraining webs. A sticky, repulsive, and very dry taste lingered in its mouth. "Let's get some sleep, now." his restlessness began to show. Maybe now he'd be able to sleep, if not for the stinging pain lingering in the palm of his right hand.

Gina seemed to have long since fallen into a peaceful slumber. 'Lucky girl. Why do I ruin her life with my presence?' he sighed, looking at her. Her green hair whipped slightly to the calm breeze, as her head rested gently against the soft grass. He couldn't see much beyond that however, for the darkness was not where human vision had its potential. Nearby, it seemed even the madman had fallen asleep. Even asleep, he seemed to make himself be known to all. If ever you wanted to hear some loud snoring, then this was where you'd go. 'At least he's not TALKING.' The Bulbasaur, who kept the beast of a man restrained, was also sound asleep, its legs stretched in all diagonal directions around it. 'I wonder if Pokemon dream… do they ever feel the guilt of life haunt the supposed peace and escape that sleep is said to provide, or is it simply rest for the next day?'

Delving deeper would have to wait. "Here…" he whispered to the Totodile. "I think you'll rest easier within." he held out a red ball the little gator had not been with since practically half a day ago. He didn't wait for an answer as he activated the device on accident, pressing the protruding button that converted the cold blooded creature into pure, infrared energy. "Good night."

Sleep came easily enough for the lad of vengeance. Visions raced through his dreams. Screams of pure terror, pain, and suffering filled the air like a fast spreading gas as a laughter boomed loudly behind it. The screams were of very different volumes, tones, and species. Rest assured though, none of them belonged to him. He awoke with a startled leap, drenched in sweat from fear. He knew not what had happened in the dream, but he knew what he was doing. He was the one laughing maliciously, like an evil overlord who had conquered the world! Morning dew was still wetly painted amongst the grass as he screamed in fear into the air. For the second time in under twenty-four hours, birds littered the air as a loud voice echoed the woods.

It was still early in the morning, time flies when you're asleep after all. As he glanced about, Phil was glad that both humans seemed to remain asleep. 'I wish I could sleep as easily as they can.' he sighed. He was almost glad. He wouldn't want to disturb Gina, and as for Jimmy… well, he WAS disturbed, and better left to loud snoring. It was unfortunate however for a certain grass Pokemon, who had been snapped out of wherever animalistic minds wander when slumber calls.

He simply let his head rest back against the wet grass. Surely it was just the peek hour of dawn, there was still time to rest up. Phillip Molson would not find himself back amongst the dream waves that day. He simply rested there, coated and caked in liquid, sweat in the open air, and wet grass on his backside. The chill of the winds didn't even phase him. The chilling winds around him made him shiver. He did not sleep again that night.


	8. They Might be Gnats

1I decided to put in another interlude here, simply to get me back into the swing of actual writing. Another peak into the mysterious Orbital Occult. Bleh, there's a legendary here too!

**Dust to Deceit**

**Interlude 2 - They Might be Gnats**

A yellow haired man glanced to the sky above. Many stars glistened before his sight, bright, yet partly distorted from the summer's haze. The moon was up there too, shaped like a fingernail, a mere sliver of its full, unchanging glory.

To think, man once dreamed of the moon and stepping foot on such a dead, and lifeless surface. Now, in Arthur Landon's mind, the moon was a waste of man's time. 'Gretkan is out there... somewhere in this galaxy.' He smiled at the thought. Gretkan was his dream, his salvation. It was a salvation for all who wished to follow. 'Man or beast, all will be welcome to Gretkan! We will be free.'

"Freedom is to each his own. Most would rather remain safe." A booming voice stated from above the yellow haired man.

Vast wings flapped loudly, kicking up much dirt from the nearby hills. Landing behind Arthur was a beast that many would only dream of meeting face to face. It's mere presence lit up the night sky around it, showing its white, smooth skin, and long wings that looked to have their own fingers at the tips. Its face glared sternly at the human beside it, the blue and black providing the beast with an almost intimidating appearance. "It is unsafe out there, human." Its voice did not move as it spoke, but its words were quite audible for anyone within a good few hundred feet to be able to hear.

Its voice was not loud, but something about its words were commanding, as though they spoke to the mind Arthur however, did not tremble at the sight, and the immense power he felt from this creature. "Lugia..." he said quietly, the word felt like acid on his tongue as he spoke it.

"You don't sound surprised to see me." the legendary beast asked in a falsely disappointed tone. Dare it be said, a godly beast had nearly sounded sarcastic, but mostly insulted. After all, Lugia was a beast that was feared and respected at the same time, and it was well aware of its power and prestige. "It is not every day that someone gets to chat with a legend such as myself."

"You are small and unimportant to me, no matter how self-important you are." the man replied in an honest tone. "Do you honestly think you can sway me from my dream? You make it sound like what I seek is evil!"

Lugia's gaze was deep, almost concerned. "Evil?" it asked, shaking its head. "No! There is no good and evil. There is merely misguidedness!"

"You cling to your desires to control us." Arthur replied, calmly, yet obviously quite displeased. "You fear that there may be powers greater than your own. Powers that are not even physical!" He paused, the thrilling intensity of his dramatic tone caught up to him as he waited for a second. "You fear science... knowledge! In short, you fear intelligence!"

Lugia replied a tone worthy of a legendary. "You know well that your heart thinks it is in the right place. I am glad you are not malicious, but you must know where your place is in the circle of life. You are not a god. You are human, and must remember that if you seek gateway to another planet, you will ruin that planet's development."

"I have made careful preparations to avoid causing unrest. Gretkan is a big planet. It is so big, that you cannot fathom how vast it is!"

The legend did not care for what the Occult leader was saying. "You must not disturb Vortexaco! It's flatulent portals are not toys to be used for avaricious ambition."

Arthur's eyebrow went upwards, and his head tilted downwards ever slightly. With a single cough, he replied to the beast of legend. "Such large, and inaccurate words. Anyone, anyone at all who seeks to expand humanity to Gretkan is welcome to join us." His brown eyes fixated upon the eyes of the legendary.

"Yes..." Lugia replied, but it did not get to say any more than that as the yellow haired man interrupted.

"Do you know what kind of falsehoods, lies, and heresy my followers are convicted of!" Arthur asked in an honest tone. "Hell, our last leader was executed for a crime that doesn't even exist! That man was my friend! Do you know how important we are to astronomers and how helpful we can be to shuttle launches?"

"I... am aware." Lugia replied, its tone honest and understanding. "Regardless of these facts, I regret to inform you that we may clash with hostilities if you continue your crusade!"

This was hardly a shock for Arthur Landon to hear, but it was not pleasing in the least. The fact that he and his men may perish at the hands of legendary beasts was unnerving. To see his dreams shattered by genocide sent a deathly frightening chill up his spine. There was only one question on the man's mind. "Why?"

Lugia did not reply at first. After a few seconds of delay, the legend spoke in its telepathic voice once again. "I cannot tell you why!" it replied. "As cliched as it may sound, to you humans, you have to find out for yourself."

Arthur nodded his head. "You're right." he replied earnestly. "That certainly sounds like a cliche." With that, he grunted audibly. "Still, if it's violence that you seek, the Occult will not back down! You are after all, just a Pokemon." He paused, holding his slightly wrinkled hand up, with his pointer finger in front of his face. "Just a single Pokemon. Even you alone have your limits."

"Think what you will!" replied Lugia with its booming telepathic voice. "I must depart for now. We will meet again, human." With emphasized tone on the word human, the beast's mighty wings flapped loudly, and the white legendary departed from the hilly grounds, and soared off into the night sky. "Hopefully, you will come to understand me!" Within seconds, Lugia was gone!

'You're a gnat, Lugia!' Arthur's mind concluded. "You are nothing but an interference to the future!"


	9. It's All Inside

You're all in for a treat this chapter! New, made up Pokemon for you to enjoy. Our first featured beast is Blaksheer, an alternative mareep evolution, and a dark type! A word of caution! Leet TV, or channel 1337, speaks in, well, Leet speak. You've been warned! Review please!

**Dust to Deceit**

**Chapter 6: It's All Inside**

The gentle chirping of birds brought about the beginnings of a new day. Bugs, and creatures of all kinds sang their lines of the morning calm. Topping it off, a rooster bellowed loudly into the air. Its noise loud and precise. It was as though it were right up in Phil's face. Truth be known, it WAS in Phil's face. It was however, no rooster.

"You freaking psycho!" the boy shouted as he was snapped out of his entranced daze of fear, "How… how did you do that?" it was not very often that a human could crow perfectly to the ways of the rooster. It was of course a hopeless endeavor. There'd be no chance in nine thousand hells that dim Jim would answer.

"I'm just set up us the bomb!" he rambled, swaying about like the psycho he was. "Last night I dreamed I was a baby Blaksheer! And all my brother Mareep would bleat me up because they were jealous they turned into Flaaffy instead. They was jealous!" Jimmy snickered. It seemed Jimmy was back to normal… well, as far as normal Jimminess goes. He proceeded to laugh like a maniac.

It was nearly fifty minutes longer of stories of his dream. He was a sheep apparently, and whatever Flaaffy and Blaksheer were just didn't seem to matter at the moment. As Jim's insanity slipped, Phil felt like his would follow. "I swear!" he nearly yelled, standing up in a loud stamp.

This action, would you call it loud, you'd be saying apples were vegetables. But it did send the slightest thump that must have reached Gina somehow, for with a light yawn and stretch, her eyes opened to the morning sun and the dew that coated her. It was as though her hair was the grass itself, despite color tone differences.

"Uh, good morning Gina." Phil said passively. It was apparent that good morning was truly not the way describe the Molson boy's day, unless it were opposite day.

"Morning…" she yawned again as the sun sent its warmth upon her. "Well, I'm all soaked…" she whined, the morning dew sending a chill with the light breeze. "Are you ok Phillip?" her eyes came to his face. Women's intuition perhaps it was. Regardless of how, she noticed all the redness in his face, especially around and in his eyes.

"Uh… I'm fine, really." he spoke quickly. He didn't want to hurt her, to scare her, or do anything to make her feel bad. His mind stretched. He did not want to get any deeper into the conversation. He had to change subject, ASAP! "How about we reach town first." he sighed, noticing a grayness painting into the blue sky. "Looks like a few nasty clouds are headed this way." he pointed out, as hiding behind leaves and trees was a sky painted over with splotches of the color gray... A dark gray. The gray seemed to form about, though not too quickly.

Gina too, scanned the sky briefly, nodding in agreement. "Very well." she shrugged, looking over to the verdant reptile with a slight smile "Good morning." she greeted. A nod and slight smile was the human's response, followed by the creature declaring its species to the world.

More clouds seemed to darken the morning skies. "Lets go then." Phil's mind was far from reality however, as thoughts vast and many clouded his thoughts more quickly and thickly than those in the sky. Memories of the horrors felt in his most recent slumber filled his mind, vying to control his every action.

"Weeeeell… All around the blueberry bush, a Mankey chased a sneasel! The Mankey knew a battle was won. Aaaand Cross Chopped the Sneasel!" Jimmy's insanity rang into the Molson's ears, snapping the lad out of the craziness his mind had nearly tugged him to. "This has been brought to you all by Grassers Leech Seed Surprise, with the yummy taste of life drain!" he shouted as his tied up body swayed slightly within its vinery of confines. Indeed, everyone was indeed going to 'go nuts' if they had to keep hearing that man's insanity, and Phil already seemed to be along the path of the nutcase.

He shuddered as Jimmy's words rambled on in the form of spoofs based on everything commercialized to just about everything around. 'I should have killed him…' he sighed, 'I'm just a coward!' his head went downcast as his eyes trailed about the worn dirt roadway. If rain was indeed the forecast, mud, cold air, and water would make life simply suck even more than it already did. As far as Phil was concerned, suicide wouldn't even be enough to make an escape from it all. No, he still had much to accomplish in the world of the living.

It may have been hours of walking. There was no more sunlight, and very little blue that seemed to inch through. Surely, water would be fast and furious as it fell to the ground at a rapid rate. "I think we're almost there." encouraged Gina, as plants and tree branches whipped about wildly in the growing winds.

Jimmy's irritable, and accursed voice laughed viciously, disturbing the balance of life and stability itself. "I'm shaking my bacon and great money makin! WHEE!"

Phil gritted his teeth! He oh so wanted to rip out his lungs on the spot. This… vile murder, scum beyond scum, was he really worth the molecular carbon intake that he happened to be? Would not the entire world be better off without this man? Were he sent to prison, taxes would be sent to support his existence. Despicable worm that he was, he couldn't even have the decency to be scared for his miserable life! There would never be any complete vengeance over this sadistic moron! 'I've failed!' his mind rang out. 'I failed my sister.' he had not exacted revenge after all. Catching the killer would never be enough.

But… would she WANT him to kill? Phil's stomach churned at the controversial thought of it. She wouldn't. Do two wrongs make it right? There was no turning back time now. She was gone… gone forever! Now all he could do was live her dream.

Gina didn't seem to be quite as disturbed by everything. Her eyes seemed wide and curious, her pace calm yet steady, her mind, no doubt, freer of worries. Her voice seemed a guiding, and soothing touch on his existence. She seemed to care about him, as odd as it seemed. 'She doesn't deserve my misery!' Oh how he'd love to have her presence, with her attractive green hair… 'Wait, what am I saying?' he shook his head ever so slightly. He perked his head up slightly, the sight of a building loomed before him through thick trees. Wait a second!

"We're here, at last!" sighed Gina in relief, catching some time to breath as they stood at the edge of the city limits. Indeed it was QUITE a city. Out of the forest and into a jungle of masonry and concrete. Indeed, it would be quite a populated place as towers stretched the sky now deeply and darkly gray.

"Where should we go now?" asked Phil, unsure of where on earth safe havens could possibly be for travelers in large mazes like this. Feltinburg seemed liked it'd be one heck of a place to live, even with sarcasm behind those words.

Gina let her lips curve, forming a slight yet confident smile. "We should go to the Pokemon Center!" she exclaimed with confidence.

"Ok…" Phil trailed, nodding for no reason other than the fact that there are joints in the neck. 'What the heck is that?'

The look of the unsure though made him quite a bit easier to read than popup books for three year olds. After all, what harm in being wrong? Gina, spoke again, explaining things about he ways of the 'Pokemon Center.' How people would go there to rest, and heal their Pokemon, for free. It was a short explanation to say the least, as her eyes roamed the roadways. "Say! That's it over there." she pointed.

Indeed it seemed safe a place. Quaint, and perhaps, hopefully cozy, it seemed to stand out amongst other buildings with their asbestos ad dry wall. It even had the word running across the rooftop in large, bold letters just to give its presence away.

It was sheer contrast to the city where it seemed to be situated. The hustle and bustle of life would probably never cease whether day, night, or apocalyptic end of all humanity, for the crowds were large enough to mow down the entire populace of China. As the humans and their lunatic prisoner were swept in, it felt like "Not going anywhere for a while? Grab a Stinkers! Icky Sludge Bombs, nasty Toxics, and everything smells like poop! Stinkers! Why wait! WHEE!" and crowds didn't seem to back away. After all, he was just a nameless face in the crowd. "Mmmm… Stinkers! Makes me wanna call on Koffing!" he then laughed. His shrill agony drowned out by bustle, and rustle of the crowds.

Suffice to say, Jimmy did have a few proper brain cells that could react to the world around him, and though bonds were too tough, he knew just how to thrust to the ground in just such a way to unleash the Pokemon from its glorious confines. Suffice to say, his reasons were heavy in the stupidity department. After all, he'd nay be hanging by his arms and legs possibly if he had called upon it sooner. In an instant, he moved with such a force that if it weren't for the clanging of metal on concrete, he'd splatter his bladder in a splash of red and colors most vile against the gray of the cement roadway.

Instead of red blood, there was red light. Infrared, a familiarity that meant that a Pokeball had been used. A glowing beam sprang into the air inches above the tidal waves of crowded townsfolk. As the infrared lights died, a creature with a surface rough of skin remained, and the rainbow spectrum of colors went to the complete antonym… ultraviolet. Truth be known, its skin was not made of light at all, but it was purple, and shaped quite a symmetrical sphere, which seemed to float in the air though tiny pores formed bumps and a rough surface, where tiny orifices seemed to let seep gasses of all varieties. Its weird shape nay even half as enigmatic as the fact that its body floated, defying laws of gravity and aerodynamics. This scoundrel of science had a face that seemed as forever smiling as its nutcase trainer, but its mind was far from in a happy place. Then again there was contrast upon this criminal to scientific law, for just below its face, a shape of a skull, and crossed bones below that. The ideal choices of a pirate's black and scary flag. A sense of doom and sadness seemed to emanate from this figure.

With a sigh, it looked about. The purple sphere's life was a sham. How it despised and feared the human who had it leashed, but never would it wish to return to the wilds. It was far too gone from that life now. Its life was now for that amongst humanity, and despite the odd and lacking style of love, affection, and care received, the spherical one would never return to amongst its kin in freedom. Something was pulling at its sickly, gas filled heart towards the ways of humanity and travel. As it looked down towards its human commander, its eyes widened, and would have had its mouth wide in shock, had it the facial muscles to muster more than a smile.

The human below, crazy, and roped up, looked at the round purple stinker. "SMOG!" he shouted. His yells ignored by the many as it was drowned out by nearly a billion other voices, but not to the gas ball. It knew well its commander's voice. You could stick the entire universe in a room and have everyone shout something at the same time, but this little Koffing would easily spot the psycho even if his voice was drowned out. Naturally, hearing such a simple command like such was easy to follow.

In short time after the order, bodily pores and ever smiling mouth let loose thick green clouds of wretchedness. Their thickness was so heavy, it could break a knife, as it clouded up and expanded rapidly. It didn't take long for the green billowing clouds to make people begin to clamp hands and fingers around their nasal entryways. Like a tidal wave made of human pigment, the ground thundered with the running of clomping footwear. People scattered about, running over each other, making mayhem and all around there was chaos, all over some cloudy stink disrupting the flow of city life. It was a mere taste of what industry will one day do to them all.

Even Phillip Molson was on the run. That is of course, until he saw Jimmy's hanging, and bound up. How difficult would it be to spot a Bulbasaur constricting arm and leg movement of a crazy man. It was amazing how separated he and the Meshing lass were separated "Gina!" he spoke quickly. He had not been separated from her, most fortunately, as he quickly grasped her arm. "Look!" he spoke to her as he grabbed her attention. She obeyed!

It was a hell of a sight to behold. A purple, floating landmine smiling carefree, shrouded by the clouds of nasty carcinogens. Below it, there was Jimmy! His psychopathic ways as he dangled within his confines, never flinching, wheezing, choking or suffocating to the unhealthy air. It would be assured that his lungs would be blacker than his heart by the time this was all over, and his heart would get blacker too. "Oh, you make them scream and run! Whee!" he cheered. It was, to be honest, the love relationship between Jimmy and his spherical beast. And the watcher of the convict, the verdant dinosaur, seemed to be struggling to the bad odors. It was, after all, sane enough to feel the pain.

"Bulbasaur!" shouted Gina, garnering the attention of the Pokemon that was indeed hers. Indubitably, its attention snapped forth in a heartbeat. Hearing its mistress, the creature bolted in he direction of the sound, as a purple gasbag ceased its reign of plague the second his lord was carted off. It would not lose him yet. There were no alternatives! "This way!" Gina continued, her finger pointing in the direction of the Pokemon center, which was not far at all.

In but a minute, the trek to the Pokemon center was complete. Few people braved the billowing smog outside, so the streets were emptied. The smog aloe probably drained Phil of all his breath, leaving him exhausted and miserable. Upon entering the Pokemon center however there was merely… salvation! Yes, from rustle, hustle, and bustle, this place was a heavenly contrast. Fresh air conditioners provided a much needed salvation to the lungs. The place was very sparsely filled, contrasting that of the city with probably less than a hundred people in sight. Heck, there probably weren't even half that many people. The walls seemed well kept and maintained, glistening with seemingly unpeeled paint, and clean tiled floors and ceilings. In short, this place was a salvation!

It wasn't every day though that dead tired kids with a man tied up while he laughed without a care in the world entered your house, was it? Its almost ensured that this would garner attention of a helpful nature. "Dear me!" came an effeminate voice, followed shortly by the presence of the woman who owned it. This seemed to be a person of caring nature. A woman of pink hair, and perhaps endless hospitality who needs no introduction, except perhaps for a name we all know well. "Are you children ok?" she asked. There was no doubt this woman was anything but hope of surviving until tomorrow. Her sweet voice would either make you feel at great peace, or be nice enough to make you vomit.

Phillip coughed and wheezed. He had been doing so for a bit now, all dizzy with bad toxins plaguing and darkening the bloody airways of his inner body. "Need fresh air!" he spoke, his words constantly disrupted by toxicity empowered coughing. He really didn't feel like telling a long winded story when he was feeling… well, winded.

It was hearty hospitality, as the boy and girl went to sit by the couch to relax. Phil grunted breathlessly, hacking up a blackened grossness of phlegm. Disgustingness aside, there was a garbage bin by his side. The wooden cylindrical object was covered by a bag of flimsy plastic. Its purpose to keep the wooden woven meshing clean.

"That's disgusting!" retorted Gina in repugnant disgust. She too had been coughing uncomfortably as well. She didn't seem to have it as badly as the Molson boy though, or so you'd think. In an instance, she stood up. Had she gills, they'd have been green. "Uh, excuse me!" she spoke quickly, dashing off for whatever form of sanitary vomit holes could be found.

This left Phillip alone. Alone to mull about life, and how rotten everything had become. The need for blood, his gone yet unforgotten sister, lying cur Mr. Brenetmos the attractive Gina, dastardly insane Jimmy, a misfortunately accused Totodile, heck his mind even wander towards his recently caught Spinirak which he knew nothing about. 'Damn it! Why me?' he wondered. Would life be worth it? Would it not just be better to die now? All these thoughts plagued him. It felt like death was indeed the best answer.

That is of course until he noticed a television hanging from a shelf on the wall. "And now back to $c003ee D00d!11 pn 1337 +V!" spoke the television as all sorts of numbers and improperly cased letters roamed. Zeroes, and the number 1337 seemed to dominate the screen. Surely, it'd be enough to fry a genius' brain… unless of course they were a computer genius.

This was channel 1337. Where things are spelled wrong and spoken wrong because its funny that way. It was one of Phillip's favorite channels too. 'Whoever did that for me, thank you!' he sighed with wheezed relief. If not forever, then let his mind be off the throngs of painful reality for just but a while.

The TV began to speak again. "L31k +h1$ 1$ 1337!11!1ONE. J1nXX0rz!11" went an odd bum in a green shirt as suddenly the screen frazzled out. A number in bold font and bright, laser green promptly made itself visible in the lower right corner. It clearly meant one thing. CHANNEL CHANGE! The boy quickly looked about to find and bemoan the perpetrator. He would never get to it though, for in a cascade of green hair, he saw who it was. It was Gina, with a simple television remote in her hand.

As he began to yell the word 'Hey' at her, she interrupted him. "Oh c'mon. That channel is bad for you. Besides, I want to watch 'Saving Private Raikou.'" she said. "It's a good film. Part of the long and interesting autobiography of a military man named Noldin Spacro." she decided to explain for the sake of conversation, "Its called 'Behind the Spacro, Meaning of War' and it's a big hit still. It seems however, that commercials were still not completed with their brevity yet.

On the screen was seen a few poorly drawn cartoon men. Merely lines of ink on a white background, they too had no coloration. A man with a heavy accent spoke. "Vonderful!" it was clear that some of his V's were actually W's. "Granbull Enagy Drink!" his accent poorly done seemed not to remove the meaning of the words spoken. "Don't you know? Granbull gives you Ving Attacks!" finished the no so funnily accented man as the commercial came to an end.

"Yea. I'm sure the story is wonderful!" Phillip spoke in sarcasm. What did he want to hear about war right now? Nothing! Blood, violence, and politics all meant nothing. The Molson boy coughed again. "Well, have fun!" he stood up. He needed to cool down. Now deprived of the brain rotting salvation of R0XX0R3$+ channel around, Phil needed something to ease his painful existence. 'I need a drink! I am parched!'


	10. In Chef's Clothing

1I'm only going to post my new chapter. But I do feel disappointed at the lack of readers. The few I have I'm grateful for, but what's wrong? I don't bite unless you give me permission, and even then I think it's just a bit too kinky for my tastes. Anyway, on we go.

**Dust to Deceit**

**Chapter 7: In Chef's Clothing**

Water, as plaintive as it seems, this clear liquid was everything. In spite of its transparency, this liquid was everywhere, and never was there enough to drink! Suffice to say, the glistening cup before Phillip Molson could have been concocted in a mixture with rat poison and dry wall would not deter his desperation. How long had it been since his last intake of refreshing liquid? Perhaps about a day, and he was parched.

It was here, at the Pokemon Center's cafeteria, that Phil would quench his extreme need for liquid fill. Much akin to one at schools, there were trays for food and food aplenty. But unlike school, people seemed to give a damn for fine polishing and nay but a few scraps of paper littered the floor. Heck, even the undersides of the tables were sparkly clean. You couldn't even find as little a wad of once chewed gum… under any table if you went out of your way and looked. The food didn't look half bad either. In fact, he'd be certain that most of the food wasn't going to crawl out your stomach through any orifices, not until fully completed digestion anyway.

It almost made him wonder if he was still in this huge, polluted city. Truth be known, he would have, were it not for the window that showed torn down apartments and skyscrapers aplenty as all was pelted down by loud droplets of rainwater, which only piled up his parched need for liquid in the soul and throat!

The boy parted his arid lips as the glass of icy cold transparency quickly went to work. In an instant, the dry was washed out in a splash of cool, rejuvenating salvation! The icy water sending a slight chill of relief through his body. There was no time to savor the taste! The sand in his throat was long without aquatic touch, making it almost foreign to have it again. It would not matter though, for after many more cups of glistening, sparkling purity, a relief would wash over at long last. The glass even felt refreshing to his punctured palm, though returning to normalcy, it still stung, and badly!

After all that much water, he did none other than, you guessed it, he sighed with icy cold air in greatly over exaggerated relief. If it were life on the stage as he so earned, icy clouds of dry ice would spew forth. Like any overdose of liquid though, one thing is for certain. 'I gotta find the bathroom!' and with his bladder full of water, he was off from the graciously heavenly cafeteria… to excrete liquids he seemingly just put in.

As he was pissing off, Gina was buckled down, deeply immersed with the movie onscreen. There, on that screen of glorious radiation eye poisoning lights was a man of great muscle. With hair of dirt blonde, and muscles aplenty, you could tell he was somebody you thanked your lucky stars for if he was on your side, especially in the battlefield of war. As this scene seemed set, a voice of narration seemed to dominate. 'Good buddy Surge always seemed to have a positive attitude, or at least, as positive as could be when you're bathed in the blood of your enemies.' The big man, Surge, unleashed from his side none other than the red and white glory of none other than a Pokeball, which unleashed in its common beam of red… another Pokeball? No, this thing had hands, and arms! Muscular arms, biceps that would rival that of the man who released the beast were it not for the size difference. The body of the creature was spherical, with an upper body of pure red, and dark grayish-white on its lower half. Its face was that of smirking eyes an a well pronounced mouth with teeth that blended with the white of its stomach. Its arms seemed to take on one of these colors too as they extended from the color split between both halves. The left was of the gray-white, and red was that of the other arm. These arms were raging with unnaturally strong muscles.

'Ah, Ion! It was Surge's best, and bravest pokemon. You probably think that is some Electrode with arms. That is indeed what an Ion is, or at least, it is what it's evolved from. With arms built for fighting, it was a hell of a nasty thing to go up against, especially with an even more explosive way of life. It was,' the narrator sighed, 'and man oh man did Surge cry the day that brave Ion passed away… but that's another story.' the narration seemed to end at that, picking an oddest of times to roll for more commercials.

Gina sighed and stretched her arms. The movie was pretty good so far, no questions asked. After all, every single volume in the series was stellar. For a man with a gun, he sure was emotional to be able to write about his whole military life. 'The Spacronicles', as it was called, was simply a breathtaking series of biographical adventures and they were Gina's favorite. She lived by them, the story of a killing leading to the need for more blood as the powers of lust contort his very soul, making him need to feed his eyes, eye candy if you will, in the form of crimson blood. He craved it! It was a drug. There was never any suffering, just a quick, bloody death! It would then end in a painfully scary realization of the murderous monstrosity he'd become when… well, that's a secret.

It is because of these books that Gina had been against killing, no matter how bad a person may be. Death was not the answer. People are people after all, and everyone needs a chance. If killing in cold blood was allowed in war, then people could become uncontrollable savages of doom who kill just because they had the craving. It's as bad as cigarettes, but it kills thrice as much, given the chance. That was one of the morals of 'The Spacronicles.'

Over an hour passed, completing in full the movie 'Saving Private Raikou' proved to be as flawless as the story it was taken from. Time enough was this to revive from carcinogen, travel and fatigue in luxury. But while kids recuperated, the lady of hospitality seemed to take time to talk to a certain lovable nutcase. "Now Jimmy," began the lady of the pink, "I dunno what you're up to today, but you've gone out getting yourself in a heap of trouble. I need you working in the kitchen!" Fact was, she hadn't heard what the heck happened out there. "Do explain yourself…"

The setting was simple. It was the boss' office, and lady of hospitality was indeed the boss around here. An office desk with papers scrambled about with paperwork to be done. The life of a nurse really was complex. This was Jimmy she was speaking to. Foolish, uncontrollable, psychopathic Jimmy. "Hey pretty lady! You have pink hair! Whee!" he was still himself, only now he was untied. He was a danger to all once again.

The nurse blinked nearly five times in but a second before she replied to that, suffice to say a bit red with both anger and flustering embarrassment. "Uh…" She began. How on earth does one acknowledge that sort of answer? Heck, fact be known, that wasn't even an answer, that was just whack! That's right, whack! Freaky! Insane, senseless. Something was different about the Jimmy she knew. "Where on earth did you get all those nose rings, and eye rings… and any other rings?" Something was wrong! Jimmy seemed different. It was, unexplainably, rest assured that this was Jimmy, but he was INSANE, or so he seemed.

"Oh nursey babe!" came a rather familiar voice from beyond the door. Without even a polite knocking warning, the doors opened, revealing… Jimmy? Odd, he looked just like… Jimmy, but there was no rings mutilating his body, and he was dressed like a chef. In puffy white chef hat, and white chef apron that read 'Kiss the Cook'. "I've finished up some spicy Squirtle Turtle Soup with Bellsprout powder seasoning!" he declared in his Jimmy voice, following it up with the oh so nerve raking laughter that many have come to love or hate.

"Sounds good." went the dark-pink haired woman. "I'll be glad to help myself to some too if I may." she smiled as the pierce bodied Jimmy still sat in front of her as the door shut itself. Typical of this situation though, the nurse of course opened the door. "Jimmy!" she shouted, dashing into the finely tidy walls of the hallway, scattering papers from her desk as she went.

"Oh hello, nursey babe!" went the chef-wearing version of psycho. "You sure like hassling with my psycho half brother don't you." he grinned, providing the laugh that made famous for chapters now. "I do hope you remember that my family is a lot like yours." the grin faded not, though his voice sounded solemner than anything the psycho could ever muster.

She knew the story, not well, but she indeed knew it. The legacy of Jimmy was an interesting one. Unlike her own Joy Luck Nurse Club story, Jimmies were diverse. Indeed they all looked alike, all using their Jimmy laugh, happy nature and tendency to outburst the word "WHEE!" No two Jimmy were ever identical in occupation.

"Right… how COULD I forget?" the nurse known as Joy remarked, rolling her eyes, shrouding horribly from the embarrassment of the mistake she had made with sarcasm. Something however didn't seem right all of the sudden. An eerie sense of wrong loomed in the air. "Wait, what did you say he was?" her eyes were wide pure terror. If Jimmy had said what she thought he did…

In a burst of speed though, a pile of papers scattered into the hallway as a loud, nerve-wracking laugh echoed menacingly as it lingered on the ears of all who were unfortunate enough to hear it. "WHEEEE!" the psycho's voice rang and lingered as he dashed like a loony as he kicked open an unshut door.

Gina leapt from the couch she had long been resting on and literally hit the moon and beyond. "Oh no!" she choked on her words in fear, as her knees trembled beneath her. Jimmy was free, and running rampant. It was no doubt that he'd cause untold amounts of mischief.

"Ooh! Girlie!" smiled the ring faced whacko. "WHEE!" he shouted as he launched himself towards her like a homing missile without recourse. His face still maintained its unwavering giddiness. Potted plants tipped over, leaving fresh black soil to spill to the tiled floor. "We can have fun!"

His grasp was firm. He was, after all, a crazy person, and you should never hit a crazy person! He giggled in his insanely unsurprising way, grinning wildly with eyes that stared deep into nothingness as they stared down the grappled girl. "Whee!" he repeated loudly and happily.

Peace and quiet. It may have been a public bathroom, which not even the best of housecleaning could maintain, but it was quite an empty place. Molson boy seemed to enjoy simply lazing around with his pants down in a locked bathroom stall. As odd as it seemed, it was… relaxing. For once, he was truly alone, and he savored every drawn out second of 'me time.' For a few hours now, Phil enjoyed nothing more than silence disturbed only by dripping waters and running pipes. After all, there was no such thing as complete and utter silence. If not the noises around you, then surely the ringing within his head would have been the disturbance instead. A ringing that would irk any who dared listen to it long enough.

Suffice to say, nothing is eternal. It would not have mattered much what the noise was, if it were anything but that incessantly aggravating laugh. Oh how it turned his brain into a vulnerable ball of bruised slop. It would haunt the poor lad for the rest of his life, knowing that his dear sister had been tormented by that sick man with his sickening personality. It was a mystery to himself why he let that man live! Better to spill his blood and end him now than let him get to a possible escape. There'd be no lingering pain, just a quick and bloody death. Yes, bloody. The thought made Phillip almost smirk until he realized he was almost salivating. His head snapped upwards as he blinked with a shudder. This was a nightmare, and he wanted to end the pain, before it would end him.

It was in this anger that he almost forgot to catch himself with his pants down. Worse yet, he was about to run out of the stall just like that, definitely something that'd make matters even worse. It was fortunate for all that he did remember, even the decency to follow up with the ways of the toilet flush, and round and round the water spun, a cyclone of icky water drained to the sewers beyond, directionally swirling at the whims of the hemisphere.

It only made matters worse that he boy didn't take the time to wash his hands. Gross! This was only further complicated with the sight before him as he opened the door. There, standing beside the hospitality lady of pink in the hallway, was Jimmy! He was without his rings or bruises, but that didn't matter, he was still the same loony, and would die all the same, "Hello Jimmy!" his teeth were clenched through his words. "Having fun?" he smiled, still with teeth clenched.

"Uh…" began the cooking man with confusion. "What?" he asked. The man was a bit afraid, after all, the boy did disperse an air of uncomforting danger.

"Do not play dumb with me!" roared the boy. It was time to restrain his criminal once and for all. For his second time ever on his quest of shame, he opened a Pokeball. In a flash of infrared formed six hairy yellow legs attached to a hairy spider body. "Uh…" the human boy began in stammering confusion. He had no idea what this creature was called, or how on earth to command an attack.

It only made matters worse when the arthropod stared back up at the human boy with a sad look of horror. HE had kicked it. He used his accursed human technology and trapped the poor spider in the Pokeball. It couldn't of happened at a worse time for the poor spider, for it was on its way to mate at long last in its short life. Oh so many female spiders awaited the poor little creature. Now, he was nothing but an angry spider with an overflow of sexual frustration. There would be no easy way to relieve this tension, thanks in part to the spiders odd build that'd make grasping a tad tough. It instead resorted to stringing up the face of the human that ruined his simple hormonal life with a tear in each eye. If he was to be a broken spider, he might as well make things worse for the human who dared start it all.

"Hey!" Phil yelled as string began to form, grabbing the spider forcefully with both hands. "What the hell is your problem?" His only response was the razor swish of white fangs. From the tip of one of the pointy appendages, a clear liquid seemed to hang on the edge. It was a tinted liquid, that of a brightly colored shade, though the definite color behind the tint was a bit hard to decipher. 'Venom! This twit's trying to kill me!' his mind went as he tossed the spider to the ground in rage, disrupting its focus. He then proceeded to grasp it again. "Listen here you little dipstick," the Molson boy's voice rang with angry authority. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but if you EVER try and bite me again, I will rip off all your legs and let you suffer by not letting you die!" his voice was not stable, as he hissed the words while his lower lip quivered in total madness. It was as though you'd expect eye twitching any second now. "Ya know what next?" he taunted the poor bug mercilessly, "When that's done, I'm gonna laugh and laugh and laugh! I'll tell others to laugh at you too, you pitiful slime!" his intimidating tone rang deep into the little creature. The human seemed to have it in for him, as fear kept the small critter in check.

It seemed that he practically forgot that there were people about. "Uh, kid. You need to learn some respect." Following that, the chef unleashed the trademark family laugh, which reminded Phil that both and the nurse lady were standing in front of him this whole time. It was all Phil needed to snarl again.

"Stop that god damn laughing!" the angry Molson boy roared as he stamped his foot at the ground. "Now…" the Molson boy continued loudly in anger. "Use your webbing on that ugly one who dared to speak!" he commanded the spider forcefully. "This is the end Jimmy! When you get to hell, I'll be glad of the precious time we'll not share this same plane of corporeal existence." yes. That was a thought. It'd be heaven in itself to purge life of this scourge to his existence. For whatever likely few years it would be, this short time would be worth an eternity sharing hell with that dastardly laughing menace. There was no response tough from the spider as it stared at the boy, tilting its head with no understanding of the words told. "Damn it! Use that stringy stuff before I squash you under the soles of my shoes!" he demanded again. There was nothing. All that had come to pass was the sight of widening black spider eyes, and six quivering yellow arachnid legs.

Chef Jimmy unleashed a sigh from his lips, as his voice filled with a seriousness. "I know what you're thinking." he took a pause, holding his arms out for a moments peace. "Trust me though, when I say right now that you're looking for my half brother." he spoke, fear on his face, lest he face the deadly venom of a spider's bite.

"It's true." chimed in the lady of the pink. Her face turned stern. "If you dare attack my chef…" she stood protectively in front of the man, as if to take a bullet meant for him. "then I wont let you sty at my Pokemon Center." her arms folded in front of her chest calmly. "Its bad enough you seem to treat your Spinarak like a slave and with no value to its life!" she had seen the whole thing. "I hope you know love goes loads further than idle threats!" she sighed as she ended her speech.

"Lady, my threats will not be staying idle!" the boy said with a loud shout of assurance.

"Well neither will mine." the woman retorted. "You won't be welcome here!" her arms were folded, as all seriousness seemed to linger in every word. Her eyes were cast away. "I will heal your Pokemon after we catch that maniac, but I will demand that you leave right afterwards unless you act more humane!" It almost sounded as though the woman was about to cry.

In a mere second, Phil bolted back from the world of lusted blood and revenge! Kicked out! No! He needed to stay here for a night! He was tired, battered, and moody. He'd go insane if he couldn't take but a brief moment for relaxation in a bed. Surely there was nowhere else he could go. If he didn't have this time to rest, he would surely die! His heart sank at the thought. 'I've failed my sister. I guess when the hells freeze over during visiting day, I'm sure I'll be allowed to see my sister. I know they have visiting day every five hundred years at least,' his brain slammed itself against mental warfare and dreadful thoughts… 'But then again, three hundred years is not even a million days in length.'

It was at that moment that a scream seemed to fill all three humans that there was indeed something wrong around here. The scream had a feminine ring to it, as the sounds of slamming doors seemed to hastily remind with an oh so disturbingly familiar laugh. There was no way that this Jimmy here could be that skilled of a ventriloquist. "My brother! We have to stop him. Whee!" went Jimmy as he clenched the puffy white chef's hat into his hands nervously to twist up the fabric for soothing energy release.

"Fine then!" Phil sighed with great caution. Something about this all felt so wrong, but he would trust them for now… 'Gina, oh god no! If you die, know that you will be missed. It should be me!' His mind snapped back. He bolted towards the noise, returning to the main hall.

Gina was there, her eyes wide in fear as she stayed sprawled on the couch, apparently and thankfully unhurt. It made Phil's extremely hyperactive heartbeat soften up just a bit to know she was safe. "Gina!" he ran to her. He had to make sure though. "Are you alright?"

She smiled slightly at the sight. "Yes, I'm just fine." she reassured slowly. "Thank you for your concern." she added, just because it was polite. "Jimmy didn't do anything to me though." she half lied, wishing not to cause the death of an unfortunate man. After all, Jimmy never asked to be mentally challenged. He did pounce on her indeed, but he didn't do anything for practically half a minute except for the word Whee and other babble that would make redneck high school dropouts seem like Einstein. To say though that she felt she could simply die at that moment would be an understatement. Death would have likely been too easy an easy escape, though the mind of a twelve year old may disagree with such logic.

A smile formed on Phil's lips, as his heart felt warm for what he felt may have been the last time ever. There was something about this girl that made him feel needed, wanted… he would do his best for her if he had to, or take his own life if the command, less likely than lottery victory, were to arise! As much a need as it was, he wondered. Would she be safe…

There'd be no more time for thinking! "Whee!" blurted the stable minded Jimmy as he opened the door. "Where'd my brother go?" wondered Chef Jimmy. It was odd. The scream indeed was in here. Where had that dangerous man gone? It was a question that needed answering. 'I blame mom for his way.' he sighed. Abused kids are not often known to be the most stable of adults.

Now it was Gina's turn to lay eyes on the mirror image decked fully in chef gear. Facts remained though. This man had the same spiky black hair, the same Jimmy voice, and same Jimmy laugh, not to mention the power of the enthusiastic 'Whee' Going agape, her chin would have likely dropped all the way through to the other side of the planet had the laws of cartoon physics any say in the lore of reality.

"Look…" began Phil with a sigh. "I know what you think, but I can assure you, this isn't him! We don't honestly have time for the explanation again, got it?" he eyed Jimmy. Could he truly believe all this? Was this Pokemon Center not all it seemed? He without skepticism would rue this day. "But if it is… he'll be sorry." he sneered to make his point. 'Why on earth did they seem to stall there?' he eyed about as the nurse stepped in from the hallway at long last with a green little spider standing at her side, nervous and afraid.

Gina smiled at the little insect. It looked so timid and scared, natural when you stand beside many of the one species that dominates the food chain "Hello!" she said calmly. "Who's Spinarak is this?" she wondered. "Is there something wrong with it?" she tilted her head like a pendulum in a clock, though slower, and more controlled between sways.

"It's just fine." the nurse smiled with fakery, before releasing the guise and glaring daggers the size of claymores at Phillip. "Though it does suffer from a case of dangerous, unstable trainer." This woman of pink was glaring daggers at the boy.

Gina eyed Phil. "When did you catch your own Pokemon?" she wondered, more confused over the fact Phil already had a Pokemon. 'He has no clue what he's doing! How could he possibly have caught one before I could!' her eyes did well to hide such jealous competitiveness. After all, things truly would not become bad. Here was a boy who knew nothing about Pokemon. Perhaps it was a mere stroke of luck that let him attain the arachnid beast. "I mean…" she resumed, ready to ramble on endlessly, just like a woman would, but a clang of metal reminded that there was a nut job somewhere around here.

Phil sighed as he thought how he could explain this simply. "Let's just say, I was pissed, and the little runt caught me with my pants down!"

"Oh no! My precious kitchen!" the sane Jimmy gasped. That was the sound of clashing pans and dishes. "I hope he doesn't find the pies I made!" he panicked as he ushered the lazy chatters before him to get a move on. "C'mon! Chimrax, we may need your help." he exclaimed as a poke ball swiftly opened itself before him.

The sight before him was that of a lion… mostly. With blue fur and a mane of light orange around it like he true king of the jungle would want. However, this was no lion. Behind that mane of fur, necks seemed to sprout differently. On the right side, long white goat fur seemed to stray, with silvery horns upon its goat head. On the other side of its body seemed the most out of place head of all, a snakes! Yellowish green and with more scales than Beethoven's work, it all opened at a beaklike snout. Its back legs seemed akin to those of the goats, hardened and indeed hooves of green. The front legs were those of the mighty lion. Upon its back though were wigs of yellow, with light pink undersides and a few clawed fingers. It was a dragon's head, not a snake's. Most different though was the tail. It was a simple red thing, adorned with spikes enough to make a porcupine jealous, and they were even scattered about more randomly as well. As large and deadly as it sounded, it didn't stand any taller than Phil's shoulders, and seemed quite lean as well.

The creature did not interest Phil in the least. "Please keep your hat on before it winds up missing!" Phil's voice snapped bitterly at the man with the voice he had come o find synonymous with loathing! 'Your head will share your hat's fate if you don't cork up that evil laughter!' He sighed away his angry thoughts, knowing they would not just leave. They would return, and would be thrice as bad when they did. So be it, but he was damned to be sure that he would not let them get in the way here and now.

Scrambling like eggs, the Molson dashed for the door to the kitchen. As he opened it, all seemed quiet... too quiet! There was nobody in sight, and the only option of evasive doorways was that into the kitchen itself. After all, this was just the cafeteria. "Weenie in the HOLE!" came an irritably loud outburst, scaring a good half year off Phil's life.

The sane adults present made a disgusted flinch, for many a sexual innuendo could be easily discovered in those freaky words.

"Jimmy!" yelled Phil, having not been in the mood for games since life stabbed him in his back and told him how much it hated him. Before he could react to anything, he was nailed! Bull's-eyed quite effectively… with a pie. Of all things to be attacked with as a mess of gooey fruit, dairy and bread crust melded into one big pie face.

"It would be funny if it weren't for the context of all of this." sighed the sane Jimmy. It was just like in those movies, but Jimmy feared his head would be ripped off and digestive excretion would fill his headless body. It was only worsened by the animosity that the Molson boy held towards his accursed voice. It seems dessert was now ruined. If only there had been more lessons on playing with your food…


	11. Family Guys

1Every region has its own legends, and Kertonmel is no different. Soon, you shall be introduced to Kertonmel's triad: the Oni... masked demons. Not yet though. For now, more story. Don't forget to review already!

Dust to Deceit

Chapter 8: Family Guys

In an instance, the world went white! A strong heavy stench lofted about… it smelled like blueberries, and a hint of lemon. In a slow, yet fluid, as well as dramatically slow, motion, Phillip Molson's hands swept across his face, pulling away lumps of creamy white lemon icing, his bloodshot eyes red with fury as they were removed from their shroud of sugary sweets. Following the clearing of his eyes like underpaid windshield wipers on torrential rain spells, a finger rose to his mouth, the white mess gone as it left the digestive starting line. "Yick!" he cringed. "Lemon…" he murmured. It was bad. A blend of lemon and blueberries both that made him want to vomit enough to engulf the sun in spew. Ironic though how lemonade was good, but lemons were not.

Just because life is fun like a powerful bullet to the brain, another pie made its home upon the boy's forehead and wavy hair. Unlike the first pie, his vision was left unhindered by creamy goodness. He snarled at this, dabbing his hand swiftly into the gooey mess in his hair. This time the creamy goo was pink. Like before, he decided to chow down. Strawberries… naturally. After all, pink was ALWAYS strawberry... or watermelon. Good to eat and all of that, but Phil was not in the mood. He hungered for something else.

Come to think about it, the bullet to the head was beginning to make Phil all warm inside. If not his head, then either of the Jimmy brothers would both would be fine choices for warm bloodletting. But the asinine pie thrower was far out of reach now. Needless to say, he'd call the fool jack-asinine, or maybe just to confuse himself even less, Jim-asinine. Sure, words can hurt, but then again, talk is cheaper than any item at the dollar store, and a wooden stick is always many times more effective than some vocal wind whoosh.

With the fears of life suddenly sapping away, Phil grabbed both pie tins and slammed them against the floor, creating a loud clang, and sending pink and white creamy goodness everywhere, from floor, to table, and even the ceilings. As for the pie tins, one was still in fine condition, the other seemed to bend inwards, as though it were shutting itself inward. "Well?" he yelled, loud and angry, "You guys wanna help stop this schmuck?" he glowered back. Though the door was closed behind him, it was safe to say, the burning in his eyes practically melted all barriers away, and a chill went up the spines of all sane beings who heard him.

It wasn't even a second of hesitation before the door swiftly opened behind him. "Phillip, what happened?" asked Gina. It was as she ran in with the chaos of it all that she too was soon nailed with food for thrash. This time however, instead of the bright and sweet colorful treat that is pie, red seemed to dominate. A thick and chunky red, with white, chunky, and nearly mold, and flimsy yellow pieces of flat rectangles, frilled along the longer edges scattered about upon impact, smashing it all to the floor, while many small pieces of brown, seemingly meaty particles swarmed about the floor. Truth be known, as funny as it may look, getting hit by a fast moving piece of food hurts the spirit, while the metallic dish hurts wherever it smacks the unsuspecting victim. Gina looked about her as the food, whatever it was, made a mess of red and white in her hair. She felt as though she could cry.

"My Lasagna!" screamed the chef. "WWWH…" he caught himself as Phillip's eyes threatened to melt the sun into three liters worth of ashes, which would also be melted, especially because ashes don't form from melting, especially from a giant nuclear solar body like the sun.

He was not angry so to say, Phillip Molson was freaking PISSED to be blunt! "Don't SAY IT!" h roared in rage unconcerned with the fact that a three headed beast, both lion and serpentine seemed to have their eyes on the boy as the beast stood loyally and obediently by its master like a protective dog.

"My brother found the lasagna! Oh no!" Chef Jimmy was in panicked fearful frenzy. All his 'oh so time consuming to make unto grand perfection' dishes were being thrown away… or rather, thrown at people, instead of being eaten by them. He took great pride in the dishes he cooked. PRIDE... all gone to waste.

Actually, it wasn't going to total waste, as an ever afraid of losing its limbs Spinirak scuttled in on its luckily still present legs. With a slight sniff at a pink clump of strawberry slop on the floor, dabbed with a tad of marinara sauce, and pieces of lasagna beef, the spider's nasal capacity concluded one thing: Food, Hungry, Smell Good! Well, so MAYBE it was three things. Regardless, the little spider's thorax began to rumble in desperate need, the noise was almost cute, a pint sized version of a human stomach churn when food was needed en masse. Cautiously, the creature's pincers began to shovel in globs of pink, the taste of strawberry, new and incredible, was much enjoyed by the little spider as it cheered its name in joy, tasting the pieces of meat and enjoying them too. Even the sauce tasted great! It was a… perfect meal… well, at least for an empty stomach, and furthermore it was new. Never before had the yellow-green arachnid feasted upon tomatoes before, let alone a saucy entrée.

Such a shame that taskmaster Phillip did not think this was a good time for a picnic, and leaving not much food to be cleared from the floor, his arm lashed swiftly at the spider, grabbing its thorax in a tight gripping squeeze in the pal of his hand. As he spoke to it, his voice sounded eerily happy, though his unstable shaking made it seem like he were a clockwork robot ready to go Ka-Boom. "Hello there." He sounded as though he was extra happy, his voice softer than a machete through hot butter, but lighter than helium… and it likely meant life was out to get him egged on yet again. "Are you enjoying the nice food?" his grasp was tight. Though his arm hardly had the size to grasp the spider's width in the fullest, it did do its job of being a firm grip. The arachnid, of course, was terrified beyond death. It hardly moved a muscle, not even to breathe, fearing so much that its end may have been nigh. "Well, how about some heartwarming love?" his faux cheer illuminated as he continued to speak. Swiftly, his other hand grasped tightly around the creature's tiny neck. Had the power of squeeze, he'd likely have ripped the creature's segmented body apart right then. His voice suddenly became sweeter, as though the pie had lunged in and merged with his voice box "If you ever want to make it to tomorrow, you will stop being a lazy, useless waste of exoskeleton! If you can't stomach the pain, I'll rip your stomach out." his voice, though rasping, was still lighter than the tiniest, lightest hummingbird feather.

The poor spider was beyond paralyzed in pure terrified horror. Oh how it yearned for the simple life. At least the birds and beasts that threaten to eat your corpse don't have much in the way of psychological warfare. Out there, its merely the way and circle of life, but here, the gleam of disaster was radiantly present in the human's eyes. Perhaps this is why humans were said to be feared, or so the chitin covered creature was beginning to believe. This boy made him jump out of his exoskeleton thrice over in but a half and hour, and thrice more before that half an hour ended would it indeed bounce in and out of its hardened arachnid skin rest assured.

All eyes were on Phillip, wide and likely scared to death. "Now, lets go and shred that cretin Jimmy limb from limb and laugh at him as he dies, and if you don't make yourself useful, your fate shall mirror his!" his voice was still dripping of honey and maple syrupy sweetness. "Have I made myself clear?" his cheery voice remained. Without a second thought in its primitive mind, the Spinirak nodded as best it could, considering the choke hold upon its breathing capacity. "Good!" his voice sounded five pitches too high and girly, as though he was freaking out. "Now I'm going to give you a chance to prove yourself useful." his voice dripped exaggerated happiness like a waterfall off the edge of the earth.

"Phillip!" cracked a shocked, feminine voice from behind him. In a snap, he swiftly shifted his eyes to the source of objection, all so suddenly wishing he hadn't. It was Gina. The green haired girl he'd never betray heard EVERYTHING! She heard every disturbing sound, saw every insane eye twitch, witnessed every violent act of verbal abuse. The extreme amount of shock on her face shown was almost impeccably noticeable.

Phil suddenly wanted to curse the day he was born, as he snapped back to reality. He felt like a large jagged rock had been clear plunged upwards through his bowels up into and through his brain, except he was still alive, and remained awake through every excruciating moment of what felt should suddenly be the last seconds of his life, as his face paled, seconds later reddened by a panicked rush of blood to his head.

As he tried to speak, the words he said strangled his neck, making him incapable of spewing anything but choked gasps and incoherent words from his mouth. He wanted to just lay down now as many pairs of eyes were focused heavily upon him. "I…" he gasped as he caught a breath, panicked, desperately wracking his brain for a most plausible excuse, but none to be found.

Her eyes blinked nervously, aghast as she spoke again. "Phillip! Let the poor thing breathe!" her voice was demanding. She had every right to be too, considering the strangling situation. Phil had not even thought of releasing his tightened grip from the poor little creature's delicate spidery neck.

As Phil absorbed her retort, he wanted to jump to the moon and be just as light as if he were really there. All that worry, all that blood rush it was for nothing! He wanted to melt softly like a stick of butter in between the cracks in the floor and be one with the earth, just because such a thought was really, really offbeat, in a hippie sort of way. Yet all this time, his firm choke hardly loosened from the spider's neck. It was now only that he even realized it. "Oh, right!" he nodded, not really caring if the little critter turned into a glob of bug juice or insect blood, as he released the spider, only to let it drop roughly to the floor as it panted heavily for the sweet mercy of fresh breathable sweet air as its rear end kissed the ground with a soft thud as it then landed upside down.

Panic, and struggling overflowed through the spidery beast as it squealed its name in pained shrieks. Today began the first day of the Spinirak's ruined life, and it seemed to be starting off with a bang.

Jimmy's pokemon was apparently bored. Well, it didn't exactly have the greatest of attention spans. The dragon head was a slippery serpent though as it slowly slithered through the air above and around to the other side of he lion, a smirk upon its scaly lips as it gave the lion a slight poke on the shoulder, and quickly retracted before anyone could notice. Its mischievous deed had been done. The result was a bickering between the goat and the lion as they chanted the same name back and forth, both in very different tones.

Chef Jimmy meanwhile looked ready to have a good old conniption as he raised his voice. "My brother's gonna ruin my kitchen!" he whined like a little girl, the stretch of the situation of a mere kitchen at risk seemed to be a top priority in the human's crazy mind.

Phil of course, felt like complete crap, and all who had dare try and irritate him would feel the same way, so he would deem the order of the universe! "Fine…" he sighed. He hated Jimmy's guts! He quickly sent his eyes to stare back at Gina. Her eyes were pure and caring. Deep pools of soft brown that he felt could never betray him. 'Yet I've already betrayed her! She doesn't deserve a person like me!' he frowned. "Uh, Gina…" he gulped "About all you just heard…" he stammered. How could he continue to dare try and tell lies. It was time to use some honesty!

"Not now Phillip!" she quickly interrupted, as a misaimed dish filled with lasagna smashed violently against the wall. The ceramic plate shattered into many sharp pieces as a smudge of oranges, reds and yellows stained the wall. There he was, the ring headed maniac was behind the cafeteria counter, and beyond him were many dishes and trays. "We'll discuss this later!" she retorted quickly and firmly. When she spoke like that, you KNEW she was going to live up to it.

"We have to restrain my brother now!" he was frantic "WHEE!" the fearful chef then blurted, graced by luck that Phil was too deep in his own world to care about the words he hates oh so much. "Joy's calling the authorities as we speak!" he added, just for reassurance.

This mere mentioning caught Phil's attention. "You're sending him to JAIL?" he yelled in anger.

"No! We're sending him to the tropical island country of Cubara, where he forever be plagued by Communism!" It was beyond obvious that sarcasm gushed from hi words like a powerful geyser from the very earth itself, rolling from the chef's drying lips.

Phil rolled his eyes at that. "Yes, and your sarcastic humor is so funny!" he added a little of his own just because. Suffice to say, if he had to hear WHEE or that accursed laugh much longer, then butcher knives would rain like hellfire upon all… Gina would be a victim that would likely lead to a depressive end for the Molson maniac! Regardless, there were reasons behind his curiosity. "Seriously though! Why send him to prison? The man's insane! He'll enjoy the place just because!" after all, if Jimmy made it out alive, then he wanted the boy to suffer where he could never torture another soul again. After all, prisoners, showers, and dropped bars of soap means there's little more that needs to be said about how entertainment is found. But even other criminals were better people than Jimmy, or so he believed.

It was at this point that the sound of breaking ceramic once again was heard crashing against the wall. This plate, or so it seemed, was an empty one.

The chef released a sigh at this point. "Did you not say that this man killed your sister… and worse before he killed her? Well, that's crime, and its very punishable by law." He did have a point it would seem. Of course, how would you feel if you had to put the lock down on YOUR brother.

But the Molson wasn't taken by it. "Send the man to an asylum! If he doesn't die by my will, then let him live in shambles and as close to misery as a happy-go-lucky fool can be!" He held his fist clenched tightly, feeling the strangulation urges of wind pipe constriction overflowing his mind as his eyes wandered to the ground for a moment of thought, only to lay eyes upon a struggling spider, helpless on its back. Immobilized as it was, it felt oh so tempting to simply step on the creature's soft underbelly and get rid of its miserable tarantulan presence once and for all!

That however was not going to happen. "Help the poor thing up!" yelled Gina as she pushed a small lock of verdant hair away from her smooth face. The sight of her could merely overwhelm Phillip if he stared too long into her brown eyes. "It's okat there." she smiled. Her words were not for Phil. Instead, they were for the helpless bug, flailing upside down on the floor in a conniption as her gentle touch reached out and slowly set the creature right side up.

As it was fixed, the spider wanted nothing more than to sink its fangs into the tiled floor and smooch the ground passionately for being able to remain alive as its many spidery eyes blinked as they gazed up at the green haired girl. Her voice was soft like a silk pillow, and just as comforting. This female human felt like the mother the arachnid never had because, well, technically the Spinirak species was never known as a species that usually meets their mother, except for the empty husk of an exoskeleton which is meant to be the creature's first meal upon hatching. From litters of several in number, it's a race to see who can get their fill of mother meat, and its every spider for themselves. Well, such was the old way of life.

It's a bug eat bug world out there in the wilds. Somehow this change, despite the cruelty, was indeed safer, should the wrath of the Molson not be invoked upon his spidery self. Still, even animals love to mate, and not just for survival, but every living creature wants to have fun. Heck, that's the fun of catching prey in the wild. The edible female Weedle capture can be much more than just a bittersweet meal. Suffice to say, such mating was possible. Yes, that female Weedle would sate the male's urges as he'd have his way with it, then devour its raped husk to quell the rumbling in its tummy, the eggs it could lay would never come to be. Yes, that was a life of pleasure. Its gaze was blank at the human. This emotion… love, kinship… it was new. Before this captivity, it was either eat or be eaten, now its be hated and then eaten alive by the hatred, on the other hand, if you seem to survive the hatred, your luck is only rewarded with more hatred.

"Lets go now!" shouted the chef Jimmy. "If he finds my Eepeetuna casserole I will KILL him!" he clenched his fist, only to have Phillip suddenly staring him straight in the face.

"No!" his voice was firm, yet angry, hissing like a garden snake. "I will kill him! Me! Got it?" he meant it too. There was no doubt that Phillip Molson would let ring-faced Jimmy walk away alive.

Unfortunately, in his enraged frustration, meanings can be forgotten in the world of brotherly love. Therefore, such sayings between siblings like 'I'm going to kill you!' really mean 'I love you, but its time for painful, brotherly noogies!' "I didn't really mean it like that." the Chef sighed. Despite all odds, that psycho man in there was indeed of direct blood. "That man is my brother, you see… and I love him." his head went downtrodden to the floor. "Do you know how painful it is to need to put down your own brother?" he asked, as tears threatened to roll down the cook's eyes. "He may have desecrated your sister, but he's still my brother, and despite the guilt on our family name, I still love him."

In turn, this made Phillip begin to think as well. "Then…" 'Hmm, I gotta make this sound good!' he sighed as he spoke again. "Then perhaps you'd be doing him the biggest favor a brother ever could, and end his sorrow and misery?" Did he mean a word of that? Not at all, but whatever it takes to spill Jimmy's blood to the last ounce, he would give up anything, even his own useless life if need be, and Phil was a performer at heart.

The chef's eyes were practically about ready to turn into a flooded lake as his nose sniffled slightly as he furrowed his left brow. With a slight rubbing of the stubble on his chin and a elongated sigh, he spoke again. "I'll consider it." his voice was not in the least bit pleased, but neither was it in the least bit enraged, it was a harsh neutrality, the guilt of the loss of his brother would be hard indeed. 'That kid already knows what its like. WHEE!' his mind couldn't let up a break as it forced a catch phrase into his mental notation. 'I hope my loss does not turn me cold like him. Not for my sake, but for the sake of others… and the sake of love.' His eyes shut as he tried to shut away mental images. To no avail however, as all that happened was the splashing of salty water upon the tiled floor. It was time to stop his half brother! The longer that was delayed, the less likely he could be dealt with. "Very well… lets just get to it!" he sighed yet again. He wasn't willfully ready to undergo such an case, but now there was little choice.


	12. Don't Steal My Thunder

Another interlude, featuring an Oni. One of Kertonmel's legendary creatures. This one is the thunder demon, Sparkoni. Don't forget to review.

**Dust to Deceit**

**Interlude 3 - Don't Steal My Thunder**

Lightning crashed loudly as bright, white lightning ripped the dark grey sky with its brightness and booming thunder. It was a spectacle of light, energy and power, and amongst this super-cell thunderstorm that violently lashed about, a mysterious entity reveled and basked in its glory.

It seemed little more than a giant mask trailed by a wisping darkness that could chill even the most evil of humans. Its face was that of a dark yellow, a single demonic horn on its nose shaped like a yellow bolt of lightning. Patterns of blacks and sickly greens covered its mask face. It was without a doubt a storm fit for a lightning demon. It was a storm fit for Sparkoni's tastes and worthy of testing it's power.

Te beast was one of the Oni of Kertonmel. It was practically a god amongst men and Pokemon. As lightning crashed around it, it's horn began to glow a bright white, as charged ions and particles were practically ripped from the clouds and sent to the beast's blackened soul. It was energizing, and refreshing. After all, thunder was its most sustaining form of nourishment, second only to its demonic love for the souls of those doomed to eternal damnation.

As the lightning calmed for but a few seconds in time, a white beast with massive wings became visible to the demon. It could tell that the beast was there to speak with him. It was, after all another beast of legend. Lugia... the masked beast mumbled grouchily as it saw the winged creature approach. All that really escaped its mouth was the word Oni, broken up in many different variations though, due to its inability to speak in human tongues.

The mask beast despised the legend. After all, what right did a foreigner have to make demands of what it does from so far away? Regardless, the Oni was not stupid enough to dare lash out against Lugia, as despising and intimidating as its appearance upon its turf could be.

Lugia, following the flow of an upward gale, glided swiftly to the mask creature and came to a halt before it. "Greetings, Sparkon,." it said in its telepathic voice.

The beast grunted, making no effort to hide its distaste for the winged legend of the sea. You're a bit far from home, 'stranger'! It hissed, the cackling sound of lightning and electrical sparks hissed loudly in every word that escaped from its mouth. It was practically breathing electrical pulses. Aren't you a bit far from home?

Lugia paused for a second as the thunderous words hit it's skull. Dealing with the Oni was never a treat for Lugia. They were dark, chaotic, and lacked tenacity for important tasks. There were, in a sense, lazy, but dangerous nonetheless. "Yes, I am far from Jhoto..." it paused to sigh, "and the sea as well."

Lugia felt so weakened by the lack of water in Kertonmel. The rivers were too thin, and the lakes were all well inhabited by man, beast, or both, and regardless of that, Lugia needed the sea. Not so much the water itself, but the moisture was a source of energy for Lugia. Kertonmel was far too arid. All in all, the legendary was quite homesick, but it was on a mission. "Sparkoni," it began in its telepathic tone. "Your hostility is understandable, but I urge you to listen."

The Oni rolled its red eyes and glared at the winged one as it finished. Give me a good reason, 'stranger'! Its electrical voice was still rasp and harsh toned. If not for the fear of the other legendaries and their retaliation, then the Oni would have fried the psychic bird then and there. It had the upper hand, and even Lugia knew that, with its powers of darkness and thunder to beat Lugia's wind, water, and psychic abilities.

"Do you know of the Orbital Occult?" Lugia asked in an honest tone. It already knew the answer, even without needing to read the dark mask's mind. Suffice to say, like most dark types, their minds were difficult to read, mainly because the vision received were often chaotic and unclear.

The legendary mask had a rather neutral appearance to the mention. They... the Occult does not concern me with their petty, 'human' rituals. The muscles on it's face twitched only slightly to prove how false that statement was. With a sigh, the mask beast spoke again, Fine, they are a minor threat! They are only humans, after all!

Lugia narrowed its gaze upon the thunderous Oni. "They have many great seers and strong divination magic. They have been able to gaze at a planet, amongst the cosmos!" Lugia paused, its eyes shutting for a second before opening widely, the psychic legend yelling loudly as it's eyes reopened. "GRETKAN!"

At this, the demon mask rolled it's red eyes once more. Do you expect me to care about one of your personal vendettas? The beast mask snarled. You must have forgotten that I am a demon, and thus don't care about your need to protect humanity from themselves.

"I expected as much." Lugia stated calmly, the bird's long neck nodding up and down a few times calmly. "Considering how you and your brothers perform the Viral Storm of Souls to rip destruction and chaos, I am not surprised." Lugia shuddered. The Oni 'brothers', as they were known were demons of dark powers. Suffice to say, they were siblings, but like most legendary beasts, they held no true gender.

The demon grinned, as a serpentine, snakelike tongue licked its lips, a pair of sharp, glowing white teeth shined for a brief second as its mouth opened. Ah, yes, the rush! The power! The Storm... it is an undescribable ecstasy that thrills me to have been summoned to this plane of existence! It is what I live for, but YOU... the mask glared at the winged legendary, You and others of your pious ilk seek to ruin our fun!

Lugia growled at this. The Oni fed on anger and fear! Not literally, but they did enjoy negative emotions, negative feelings, and pain. They were, after all, demons. "We defend this planet from usurpers like you and your brothers!" The legendary sea beast paused. "Hopefully, you will remember to behave."

My brothers and I have been 'behaved' for five-hundred eighteen years. The mask stated sternly. Gee, hasn't been that many earth years since we were summoned? It asked in a sarcastic tone. It soon dissipated, leaving the serious manner which the Oni were known for. Since our first and ONLY Viral Soul Storm in this dimension.

Lugia sighed. "It was once too many." The winged legend took on a harsh tone from there. "Kertonmel was nearly wiped out, and that bastard brother of yours, Spookoni, cursed all Numel and Camerupts world wide, irrevocably!"

The demon mask laughed lightly and heartily. Ah, I remember that. He fear in the sacrificed camel was pure GOLD! Besides, I'd say they look better with shorter, stubbier legs! The mask shrugged, as best as a face could without any shoulders to shrug. No, that's a lie. I honestly just don't care.

"Regardless." the winged one said in a serious tone. "You Oni are a nuisance!"

We are demons. the mask corrected. The humans who summoned us should have realized that when you make a pact with a demon... bad things happen. The beast mask grinned, as a bolt of lightning clashed behind it. The storm had died down quite a bit. After all, this storm was at the whim of the lightning demon who harnessed it, clashing thunderbolts and lightning to the world below for the mere purpose of chaos. You know, I hate it when someone tries to steal my thunder time! As enjoyable as it is to have many electrical storms in this world... well I'm a busy, busy demon!

"I have yet to mention Vortexaco."

To this, another clash of loud thunder ripped light upon the dark skies, and the demon's gaze stiffened. The flatulent portal maker, is it? The demon asked with a curious grin. Is this an excuse to rid yourself of me forever? How thoughtful... but honestly, I am a demon, and I can breathe, even in the empty vacuum of space. Besides, I know my way back here. You'll only cause an inconvenience which I'm sure me and my brothers will not stand for.

"This is serious." the draconic psychic stated in a stern tone. "I cannot risk Gretkan... or my past."

I see... no wait, I'm just saying that to sound like I understand, which I don't. Sparkoni laughed, a crackling spark of pinkish light escaping its mouth as it did. I assume this which you speak of is further back than our time on your planet, and in this dimension.

Lugia nodded. "Yes. It is important that you know what I speak to you about."

I'm sure. The oni nodded. Bravado for taking the time to travel thousands of miles to see me.

Lugia interrupted. "Jhoto is not that far away. Yes, over a thousand, but less than two thousand."

Right. Not important to me. The demon stated, shrugging its nonexistent shoulders. The fact is, I don't care about justice, love, and defending the world. I am a demon of chaos.

"How thoughtful of you..." Lugia nodded with false enthusiasm. "Perhaps if I give you permission to unleash the Viral Storm of Souls on the land, would you consider cooperation?"

The demon's eyes widened as it licked its lips. Many bolts of thunder crashed around it, at this sudden jolt of excitement. Mmm, ah, but my brothers and I haven't been on the best of terms, especially Vacuumoni... it is with he that we create beautiful weather together... a raging super cell thunderstorm, complete with tornadoes of speeds unfathomable to this planet. A shame at that, but he needs to stop thinking of me as his lesser, since it is obviously he who is weaker than me. Poxoni and I are on better terms, but I'd certainly enjoy tearing him to shreds. The demon's eyes shifted to a sinister smirk, Don't worry, you are higher on my hate list.

"Good for me!" replied Lugia with absolutely no enthusiasm whatsoever. "Regardless, I would like to think you smart enough to listen to my plea."

The electrical mask took a second to ponder, no more and no less. Alright. The demon complied with a sinister, toothy grin. It will be enjoyable to hear you beg. Now, amuse me! The mask demanded in a dark tone, as the booming sound of thunder made the moment all the more dramatic.

The legendary sea beast nodded its head. As despicable and repulsive as he Oni were, they were after all demons, and they could not help their urges for demonic rituals. Besides that, they have been doing their job as peacekeepers and guardians of Kertonmel in spite of their chagrin and lackluster. It was after all, their job as legendaries was to protect their nation, and theirs was a big and dangerous nation. "I am glad that you will listen." Lugia said with a sigh of relief. "Now, listen up. This is very complicated and urgent."


	13. Clay is Thicker Than Water

Huzzah! As I promised, statistics of the newly introduced Pokemon. You can skip this boring stuff though, since it's not too important. It's mostly just for fun, and to help you fill a nice, non-existent Kertonmel Pokedex if you wish to play along! There's even a few you haven't met or heard mention of yet, including four of the legendary Oni, the demons of Kertonmel!

**Blaksheer**

Name Derivative: Black and Sheers, it's basically a black sheep.

Type: Electric/Dark

Evolution/Preevolution: Evolve Mareep at 15, but make sure it's happiness meter is low, otherwise it will become Flaafy. Evolves again at level 30, much like Flaafy does.

Ability: Static

**Epeetuna**

Name Derivative: Epee is a sword, and tuna is a fish. It's a swordfish, duh!

Type: Normal/Fighting (even though it lives in water)

Evolution/Preevolution: Evoves from a species yet to be seen at level 19, and it evolves at level at 43.

Ability: Swift Swim or Lightning Rod

**Ion**

Name Derivative: Uh, it's an Ion, what more do you need?

Type: Electric/Fighting

Evolution/Preevolution: Electrode evolves into Ion, but how... well, that's a secret I'm not revealing just yet.

**Chimerax**

Name Derivative: Chimera with an X. Not too clever, but HEY, we have the chimera!

Type: Dragon/Normal

Evolution: It evolves at level 45 into a species we have yet to find.

Ability: Mountaineer - Immunity to Sandstorm and Hail

**Claymore**

Name Derivative: It's based on a Scottish sword, and well, actual clay. Need more?

Type: Ground/Fighting

Evolution: Evolves by trade into a species we have yet to meet.

Ability: Softness - Half Damage from Normal and Fighting moves, but 50 more from Steel

**Vortexaco**

Name Derivative: Vortex, and Texaco gas. It's a living, gas breathing, LEGENDARY gas pump... who farts wormholes!

Type: Poison/Psychic

Evolution: Yea... RIGHT! It's a legendary, moving on.

Ability: Portal Shift - Raises Evade level by one for every turn it is in play.

**Sparkoni**

Name Derivative: Oni is a demon mask, and spark is an electrical thingie! Huzzah!

Type: Dark/Electric

Evolution: Press Start to Begin!

Ability: Volt Absorb

**Poxoni**

Name Derivative: Pox is a sickness, see above about an Oni.

Type: Poison/Dark

Evolution: Maybe when the moon tastes like a real cheese!

Ability: Venom Hide - When the enemy strikes with a contact move, 15 chance that they'll be inflicted with a strong poison (Toxic)

**Spookoni**

Name Derivative: Spook... spooky!

Type: Ghost/Dark

Evolution: The wheels in my head don't go round and round. Round at round! Round and Rou... oops, wrong script!

Ability: Ethereal Phase - Improves chance to evade by 10. Does not work on never miss moves like Swift and Shockwave.

**Vacuumoni**

Name Derivative: We're talking the vacuum that sucks up dirt... mostly.

Type: Dark

Evolution: Seriously, let's just be friends!

Ability: Wind Mill - A flying type version of Flash Fire. Basically, if the Pokemon is struck by flying attacks, it will take no damage, and will be powered up op deal stronger flying type attacks... or all attacks in general, I forget exactly how Flash Fire works.

I think that's all of them! Let's get on with the show, shall we? For the most part, I'm going to crank out the last two chapters very soon... so I can get to the point where I need to start writing again... well, actually, if I feel that the chapters need some work, I will work on them so don't hold me to my word so much.

**Dust to Deceit**

**Chapter 9: Clay is Thicker Than Water**

Time felt slow… it was as though three eternities passed by in the blink of an eye, at least, that's how Phillip Molson felt right about now. As well, a pool of sun drenched lava would not even begin to explain the intensity of his anger and boiling blood. It was a wonder that his capillaries had yet to melt or char into blackness thicker than oil but more than twice as flammable. Rage, anger and sorrow seemed to be amongst the few emotions that would never die, they would only bottle back up inside until they were needed for their next massive detonation.

His body trembled as though there were some volatile dynamite hidden deep inside, with a fuse shorter than his little toe, and lighting it would be easier than burning down a forest, for not even a spec of heat would be needed. Phillip Molson, as stated earlier many times before was very, VERY pissed off. His shoes clomped angrily upon the floor as the room began to tremor, leaving the sound of rattling metal pots and tin silverware to shake about. Fortunately for all in fear of a crumbling building, Phillip Molson only weighed about one hundred fifty pounds. In spite of this fact, his feet slammed the smooth tiled floor below him, squishing as he stepped in sauce or pie cream, giving not even the tiniest crap that his shoes were probably best left to the dogs at this point, a tasty treat of rubber, fruit icing, and of course the oh so very delectable shoelaces, oft eaten in a style akin to that of the many stringy forms of pasta dishes.

Competency was not an issue here. The rotten psycho would be given one chance to end his own life quickly and without struggle, and then he would be destroyed slowly and painfully, and Jimmy would then laugh no more! Finally, all would be at peace… at least for half a minute. All now that lay in wait as an obstacle was a white painted door made of fresh, smoothly coated wood. "This is it, you wretched punk!" his eyes blazed hotter than the sunny side of Mercury, whilr tears threatened to roll down off his face! Yet the door knob, when he pulled with all his enraged might, would nay budge at all. The Molson boy growled as he proceeded to try again, pulling violently to make it turn.

"Whee!" it was that accursed chef whose blood was that the same as the murderer within. His eyes widened the instant he realized his fatal mistake. "Uh, wait!" he quickly yelled, as to assure Phillip he was not asking for death sentences that would be numerous and many. His quivering hand quickly went to a pocket at the side of his pants, and after but a second of the sound of jingling metals, out from his pocket was a flattened vision of faded brass. It was a key. "Allow me." he smiled as he approached the door.

Phillip Molson's eyes still raged as the ring of the accursed Jimmy family trademarks still tormented his ears and fueled his rage, but he was not stupid enough as to destroy the only source of entrance to where the murderer lay in wait.

Some logic however, did not seem to fit the bill. "If your stepbrother is in there." Gina Meshing's voice seemed to ring out as a question of great importance lingered in her mind.

"Half brother." Jimmy corrected as he turned the brass object within the shiny silver doorknob. "We are of the same mother after all." His information was with no doubt utterly useless at the current time. There were bigger things to be of concern with than family ties, yet here he was wasting precious oxygen on matters of probable debauchery that lead to such parentage issues. In he following second, a very light click could be heard.

"The point is, if the door's locked, how did your brother get in to begin with?" Gina pursued. Something here didn't seem to add up.

"Well, I'm guessing he went in over the counter." Jimmy's deductive reasoning concluded. Indeed it was a counter. One where trays for lovely meals could be brought to help oneself to the delectable meal of the day and you'd feast like a king for what feels like eternity, yet the only time to pass however is only that in which it takes to finish the last bite. It was good enough to make you… well, it was enough to obey the power of the apron, and regardless of sexual preference, you just want to 'Kiss the Cook!' "In fact, I'm sure of it." he paused, hesitating to finish opening the door.

"If you don't open in ten seconds, then I too will jump the counter!" it was Phillip, and oh boy was he pissed! All he wanted to do was complete his personal mission. The thoughts were stirring in his head now, and like before they were a vision of bloody death and fulfilled vengeance. The scene was nothing but blank whiteness, yet there was plentiful ground to walk upon, though you'd never know where the separation between ground and air began. Yet, there was Jimmy, dying in a stained mess of blood, red flowing down to the white of nothingness that was the floor. In spite of extreme blood loss, multiple bodily impalements and other fatal wounds, there he was laughing without a sane care in the world, fueling and egging Phillip's anger onward. In a manner only accomplishable in dreams, Phillip Molson, in all of his fury, chopped the man's head clear off its home upon his shoulders. In spite of the separation from voice box, the damned killer was still laughing his head off, more literally. Oh how Phillip wanted to scream in tormented rage. It was to no avail however, for when he tried to scream, his body shock

"Phillip!" it was the chef. In his accursed Jimmy voice, he had woken him up from a nearly fulfilled fantasy. He knew that voice all too well. It was the chef. The chef whose blood, voice and name were beyond kindred, they were practically the same, as the cruel murderer within the kitchen of fate! "How… how do you feel about my brother?" his words were hesitant, yet he perhaps already knew the answer well.

Phil's mind never even needed to focus, for his answer, though worded slowly, was known since the moment he met the man who truly devastated his life. "I hate him!" his voice sounded cold and empty of any emotion but rage. "Sorry." his eyes went downcast. Had he realized at long last that this man beside him also was concerned with family, after all, little else can be ever quite as important. "I LOATHE him!" the volume exploded on the word of extreme detesting, sending a slight shiver up Gina's spine as she heard it. Apparently, he had no care at all for the fate of brotherly love, all he wanted was to get revenge… even if he had to die while trying.

"Phillip…" it was Gina, "How could you?" but her words were not heard. 'Not like he'd listen to a weakling like me.' she sighed as her mind poisoned itself with discontent and despair. Gina Meshing may only live because the boy enraged and standing there now was there to rescue her, but two wrongs… well, it's certain even closet dwelling introverts know the saying.

In another click, the door to the kitchen of final fate had opened at long last! Revenge and victory were sweet and dark, just like hot fudged chocolate sauce, oh so tempting, but oh so dark, that light itself escapes only because it's the fastest thing in the known universe, but rest assured, that ray of light never returns there again, it only looks like its still there, but truth be known, its just another ray in the continual, endless stream of sunray.

"Move!" his voice demanded as the loud click sounded. In a swift motion, he had stomped through the door, where a culinary arena surely awaited, though as he burst through, the hopes of enough space to spill blood cleanly were dashed. It was a forest of utensils and silverware to say the least, with silvery colored carts used to hold those fancy lids of food as it was carted to its most fortunate partaker of its yummy goodness. Forks, spoons, pots, and pans littered walls, shelves, while some hung from racks colored in silvery tints as well. The forks, well, some of them would work nicely with their sharp prongs, perfect for destroying Jimmy's unholy eye holes, a gateway to the soul of a true demon!

Still, it was no compare to the many knives as well. From most pitiful butters to the all mighty butchers, there'd be plenty of spots to stab the bastard to a gruesome, fulfilling death. Stoves, and boilers were present too, a perfect weapon for most diabolic warfare straight from the burning depths of the hells! Into the fray it was then.

There was no turning back, and there couldn't have been a worse way to start revenge, than getting mowed down by a wheeled cart made of strong sheet metal, followed up by a loud "WHEE!" and an obnoxious laugh.

Of course, the other Jimmy saw it all. "Can he handle himself if it comes down to a battle with Pokemon involvement?" his words were directed towards Gina.

"I…" she didn't quite know how to say it. How could you not scare or embarrass anyone by blurting out quite factually the words 'he hasn't even the slightest clue!' Yet, by blunder and carelessness, mouth and mind spoke both at the same time, and the expression on the chef's face reflected this.

To say chef Jimmy was irked, or fearful was anything but the truth. If it were, then his control over emotions was simply an amazing work of acting. "I see." his tone was as neutral as a psychoanalyst and one could almost expect him to have a pen and notepad on hand as he would jot down notes and come to conclusions. "My brother has quite a talent for training." he spoke calmly. "He may seem to be at a lack for sanity, but I assure you that he knows a thing or two about Pokemon." he sighed. After all, even a crazy person could be a cunning genius if he wants.

A sigh escaped from the girl's mouth. "Well, I doubt Phillip's got much of a want to bother with it." she sighed, eyeing the Spinarak as it began to chew away mercilessly at the edible messiness of tossed food. Indeed, Phillip was in two simple words, royally screwed, spell it out if need be! "Listen!" her eyes quickly darted back to the man of apron and large white hat as she snapped out that simple exclamation, "We need to stop your brother at all costs." her mind raced about like a rocket ship at a track meet. All in all, she could only come up with one idea. "Do you have any frying pans?"

"Yes, of course. Bacon is magnificent my way! WHEE…" Jimmy halted, eyes wide in fear as he glanced about. "Oh, right, he's not here." to which he unleashed an exasperated sigh of overly good relief.

"Pardon." Gina's voice traveled across towards the lazy, hungry spider. "Go into the kitchen to help him." she commanded lightly. Her voice was soft-spoken and calm, but regardless of the deceiving tone, the green haired girl was indeed giving the little spider an order. An order to which the spider unleashed a fearful cry of pure, unbridled horror as it shook its head while its multiple spider eyes widened even more than they already could possibly be. Now that the terrifying, abusive human was away, there was no need to hide the trembling in six legs that were constantly threatened to be torn asunder.

"I can't say I don't blame the little fella. I'd be scared too if I were at the mercy of a nutcase twelve times my size." Jimmy commented with a slight shake of his head, quirky thing though was how his enunciation of fellow was that akin to a mid western cowboy.

With a sigh, Gina approached the small spider calmly. "I know you don't think that he cares. Maybe Phillip really does hate you." to which the little arachnid nodded its head up and down rapidly. Gina's face contorted into a look of worry. So much for playing the role of lady negotiator. "The point is, he needs you!" she practically shouted it. "It is certain that he needs you!" she almost consumed herself in this belief she was so convincing. "Although he may not seem to care, Phi…" it was at this she paused as a tap hit her shoulder, snapping her back into reality and focus. It was the food maker Jimmy. "What?"

He merely pointed behind him. "Look! You seemed to spark some hope! WHEE!" his smile seemed to show as fact that reunion of a bug and his boy seemed to be off to a good start, for scuttling along as fast as six short legs can carry, the little Spinarak scuttled right through the open door and straight into the kitchen. "It warms my heart…" the sane Jimmy grinned as he unleashed a laughter unbefitting to the fact that dishes were broken, families were breaking, and angry teens were getting trampled by hunks of wheeled metal. Not even Gina could not help but cringe at it. "So why did you send it in there anyway?" the Chef wondered. "It's obviously not something liked by its trainer, and will probably be clobbered and ripped a new rear end by my brother."

Gina smiled, almost grinning, nearly sending the man who laughed in the face of death into a few shivers of discomfort. "I have a plan, I think." she smiled. Giggles would have followed had it not been for the situation, but he green haired girl loved it when she had a well thought plan come to her, suffice to say, it was a rarity. "Well first, we need to find some frying pans…"

As calm folk planned, rage continued as white tile wall nearly met Phillip Molson backside first, as he halted the food cart as best he could. It was a relief that no food was onboard, or there'd have been much too much edibility bound havoc to deal with, and food for thought today was vengeance with a tall, cold, and corny glass of extreme pain. "I have nothing more to say to you," Phillips voice was still cold, yet creepily soft-spoken for the rage boiling unhealthily in his veins. "other than that you die now." again, his voice was calm, though his teeth were gnashed. He could hold back the fury of the voice box no longer "I'm giving you no last requests either!" he raged, blindly charging as though he could easily stand well against a man of greater age and no doubt more cunning.

Jimmy the psycho of course, did not flinch a muscle. Instead, his permanent grin remained still forever plastered upon his ring pierced face. Though his right arm seemed to rise from his sides and was indeed in a ball shape form, it was not clenched shut. "Battle me!" his girly voice rang out, followed by the Jimmy trademark laugh. It was clear, in his hand was none other than a poke ball. The red and white sectored sphere of metal technology was firmly grasped in the vile fingers of the murderer.

'Battle?' Phillip's mind reeled at the thought. Of course! It was only rule number one of the purpose of training Pokemon after all. Still, the endeavor seemed quite risky to undertake at this current time. Then again "Fine, whatever!" in spite of the lack of know-how, Phillip was in no mood to even consider reasonable thinking. Funny thing was however, the madman seemed to have some conniving plan up his tattered, and still stained sleeve… maybe.

"Oh goodie!" he cheered as though he were a five year old that thinks the world's size was smaller than a hotdog. As always, the nerve wracking returned to Phillip in 'double-whammy' as the man of no fear unleashed his trademark line. "WHEE!" and the laugh indeed did follow. "Ehehehe!" he finished with giddy vigor, "Time to rumble, fight thingy!" his jumbled words made less sense than his demeanor.

All this time, Phil's body shook, a tremulous volcano minutes from eruption. It was in his best interest though not to spew lava to cake the world in an inferno. "Just… be… QUIET!" his speech was slow, and low, until the boom at the end. Indefinitely, the word quiet was spoken quite loudly.

"Ooh!" the psycho's voice was full of faux awe, though the true harshness within his sarcasm was lost to an empty void of raging thoughts. An explosion with nobody to hear it is by far not making itself well known at all. "We fight now!" he cheered as the poke ball in his hand was now slammed against the floor with a mighty force.

Phil's eyes widened in horror as the ball gave way to the laws of physics. Truly, even this metal sphere would break under such mighty pressure. Yet, instead of breaking, the reinforced metal sphere touched down lighter than a pin drop. "How the…" he never got to finish his question at all.

From the now exposed insides of the unscratched sphere, the usual rays of red energy began to take shape. An odd clump of odd dull grey formed stood firmly on the kitchen floor. Its shape was that of a stone built humanoid, standing a foot and a half tall at most, and its muscles seemingly were well shaped. It was almost as though this creature was built of clay, for the odd globs of hands seemed to mold at their own accord to form whatever hand signals were needed. One thing about this odd beast though didn't seem to be of its regular structure, and that was the long, thin rod of deep brown seemingly 'sticking' to it rounded backside. It too appeared to be of a clay structure, thinned out at one edge. Even the creature's eyes seemed to be made of clay, but they were most definitely white colored eyeballs. "Claymore!" shouted the J man murderer, absolutely still in the ecstasy of blissful existence.

Phillip's eyes narrowed as though he were trying to seem an intimidating threat but he was truly just deep in his mind, darting about for a plan that would never exist. 'I have… no choice, or hope.' he sighed. With demure sense of failing hope, Phil took from his pocket the only poke ball that was brimming with life and weight. "Well…" he sighed. "Seems I've gotten myself into a big time mess." Oh what he wouldn't do to be turning back time and stopping everything.

With those words, the blue crocodile of ill fated beginnings sprouted from a burst of pokeball technological energy. With a single syllable spewed forth from its raspy toned voice, it landed upon the red tiled kitchen floor gracefully, glancing about in cautious curiosity. A few quick observation on the part of the small reptile seemed to make the message quite clear: The call to battle had come! The gator was not but a manipulated soldier, and he was at the every word and whim of his commander, the human with a rage deep and unsurpassable. It was time to get down and dirty. "Kill it!" the gator's human commanded with great disgust. All it got from the crocodile was a nod and an increased heart beat, racing the blood through its body with fear.

"Whee!" went Jimmy as he eyed the beast of clay. "We gonna have a good, mon!" he rambled with a surprisingly well imitated Jamaican accent. The warrior of clay nodded its sculpted head and spoke its name again, its tone was calm, and its voice was accented with a pinch of Scottish. "We be starting!" Jimmy's Jamaican weirdness died down after those words left his lips as his never ending smirk seemed to become scarier than ever. "Slash it!" the crazy man had said, receiving no hesitation from the beast of clay earthliness.

The beast wasn't exactly a fast creature with legs that seemed to hesitate leaving the floor due to the sticky clay, but Phillip was practically ready to hate the gator once more. "Do something!" he commanded with rage, but all it did was get the blue creature to eye him, and hold up its arms in a shrug of confusion. Phillip still wasn't understanding. "Use your claws or teeth!" he was practically as ready to kill the gator as he had been a day ago. "AHH!" he bellowed in rage, as the gator still didn't do anything. "Are you too stupid to pierce with your claws or bite it with your teeth?" his words were harsh and cold, but one of the words clicked in the gator's mind, as it barred its teeth as water dripped down the from the longest fangs! It was ready to strike the unruly earthen warrior.

In spite of its lumbering, the beast of clay had not dawdled as it grasped the stick of brown clay attached to its back, causing the soft, squishy object to take shape as a sharp looking blade with a heavy size, large hilt, and a mighty blade. Truly, this mighty great sword was beyond the grasping capabilities of such a small warrior. Yet, hands too morphed swiftly, becoming just a bit larger. Forget the sword in its hand, those arms could smack down quite nicely on their own, though the arms seemed to thin out. No doubt compensation for the relocation of the clay. Yet, it held this mighty sword in just one hand. There was no struggle either as it lifted the blade to swipe at the gator, but the watery reptile had other plans as teeth sunk into a clay forehead, drawing no blood, and molding the clay. The warrior seemed hardly phased as it rolled its eyes, laughed heartily its name using its accent, and flung the gator off its head with a finger sling as though it were a mere spherical spec or particle. The creature's skin still had the mark of toothy fangs clearly visible.

As Jimmy clapped and unleashed his accursed laughter, the Molson was further enraged. There was his Totodile, tossed about like a rag doll and flung to the ground. There was nothing but pain and aching in its entire body, but it was not ready to yield yet.

As Phillip was fighting, our devious planners were busy sneaking about. "Are you sure this will work? I hear the kid and he sounds really furious."

"I'm not sure if this will work." she spoke, peering the corner to see Phillip engaged in what, horrifically enough was a pokemon battle. "Oh no. He IS battling!" she was struck with horror. Phillip was for certain a dead one now. "Jimmy…" she turned around, but the chef was not there.

Instead, he had gone to the field to help the disadvantaged boy. "Phillip." he spoke, coming to reveal himself from around the bend in the wall, "You cant expect to win by leaving a pokemon to its own devices. Try telling it what to do!" he urged.

Phillip's mind was blank in shock. There he saw it. Two Jimmies, both so different yet exactly the same. All of this was practically an overflow in his mind. Two guys who could say 'WHEE!' Two guys with the insidious laugh of torment! Two guys who looked like the lowest of scum!

The chef sighed "Tell your Totodile to use something called water gun!" his eyes turned towards his brother. How odd it was to call a person such as him 'brother'. It gave an oddly uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

Likewise, the nutcase eyed the chef as well. Ah, well, his mind was empty as you know. "Brother!" he smiled as he locked his brother in a most grizzly of bear hugs. "WAZZUP!" The psycho then shouted. Oh, of all the inane lines, this one was by far most cliché to ever spew from the vocals of the man with the heavily ring pierced face!

With a wince to his brother's tight grip, millions of thoughts flooded his mind. Ideals were questioned, loyalties were debated, and after four seconds of brotherly squeeze, the sane Jimmy frowned to his younger brother. "I'm sorry…" he trailed, his left hand clenched in a fist so tight that it trembled, struggling to tighten beyond the limitations of the physical world, and all the anger had simply rushed right to the tips of his fingernails. "I think I'm going to have to not call you 'brother' any longer." his eyes weighted down with the steel weights of guilt and sorrow. "I hear you did some horrible crimes, and took a person's life…" another pause ensued as all living beings set their eyes upon the elder Jimmy as he continued his dramatic monolog. "You also tried to do it again, or so I'm told." another pause, as the hint of tears reflected off of the bright lights of the kitchen. "I know you've had it rough, but I'm afraid I'm just going to have to call you a shame to our name."

It almost seemed as though the little nut job had finally shown some form of emotion other than insanity, for his eyes seemed to water with tears. A shell of hidden, bottled up emotions finally broke as the shards of broken glass pierced the soul with a hundred pangs of sorrow. "I understand…" his voice was calm and low key, never a soul could expect this. "You want to battle me too! WHEE!" Then again, once in a blue moon when pigs fly, the wheels of fate have worked their cruel magic yet again!

From shuttered to wide, the older brother was greatly in shock. "I don't believe it!" Fists trembled even more noticeably with rage as he spoke. "You mindless jerk!" his eyes redder than blood, and words thicker than it too, yet in spite of his renounced consideration of family, the fact remained, they were of the same blood, and he would dare not shed that blood, even in spite of his cruelty. "If battle you seek, then fine!" from the pocket by his side, out came something spherical. "It seems you really HAVE lost your mind." The elder Jimmy sighed. 'I wish I could bring him back...'

"Cookie Dough!" shouted the idiot Jimmy. He was indeed correct, for as disgusting as it was, the cook had pulled out a rolled up ball of white, floury dough.

"Ah, no wonder I couldn't finish that cake." the chef shrugged as he tossed it backwards. Concern towards the cleanliness of his kitchen was not present at the time. 'I'll clean that up later.' went his mind as he stared down his 'brother'.

Phillip however, could stand no more delay. Loudly, he cleared his throat as though mucus the size and sliminess of a gigantic slug was lodged in his throat. "Hey there!" his voice was loaded with faux calmness, and shifted all so suddenly. "I was fighting first! Back off!" Now he was angry. "This is MY revenge!" he yelled. Odd how one could be so possessive over the fate of a person they hate so much. "You can have what's left when I'm done, if anything's left, that is!"

"Eh?" went the insane ring faced freak as he eyed the creatures standing there. "Whee! Take Down!" his emphasis was still as carefree as ever. It could be the end of the universe and still, there would be no fear on his face or in his mind. Then again, the freak had faced death head on, not even flinched in spite of bleeding and defenselessness, and quite frankly, as far as Phil was concerned, the man had no mind. He didn't even shed a tear to cry.

The Molson boy was worried. It had been so sudden. 'I should have expected something so vile from that sick freak!' His eyes at long last returned to the beasts of servitude. It was odd that they did not fight on their own accord. Wasn't that what they existed to do in a world dominated by humanity? Was not fighting their only reason to live? While humans lived their lives for what humanity was meant to be lived for, these… creatures, they did not make use of their time it seemed, and did not fulfill their purpose. That is of course, until the Jimmy had spoken to his creature of clay. That must have been it then! Phillip Molson had come to a conclusion, as odd as it may have been! Pokemon were like robots, needing to be controlled or else humanity would rot like the empty corpses they'd become without their easily controlled slave labor. That simply HAD to be the only way he could describe it. The thing is, he didn't know how to give these orders.

As they say, he who hesitates has lost his chance. As much as it wanted to just get out of the way, blue gators would not dare betray their vengeful masters, lest they be back at day one, which ironically was that very day. There was no escaping now, as the mighty bulk of clay was practically upon it, though it was by far not fatal. It seemed like all would be lost in this dark kitchen bound hour, even as single string of thin, silky white took shape upon the clay beast's backside.


	14. Boom! Straight to the Moon!

I feel the urge to leave a fair warning once again. In later chapters there may be, and in a GRATUITOUS amount… astronomy, and Kertonmellian history! Oh well, if you're offended by learning, I'm just letting you know. This fic is rated IQ for uh… your IQ! Oh just read! Regardless, be on the lookout for some form of plot conjunctures. I will say no more!

**Dust to Deceit**

**Chapter 10: Boom, Straight to the Moon!**

As fate raged on in the kitchen of intensity, a certain medical worker was busily on the phone. Relaxation was something that seemed so natural for the situation around her, yet here she was. "Oh… my… god!" and of course, it was a mile a minute per word. A little math would reveal that to be eighty-eight words a second, unimportant but always fun to know some simple math.

For the past fifteen minutes, while Phillip Molson had been walking a road of destiny along the endless reaches of his brain from killer to kitchen, the pink haired lady had been wasting her time away with small talk and words of nothing. This was, of course, a common occurrence amongst women when with their friends.

Subjects from some hot guy named Brad, after all, with a name like Brad, how could he possibly be ugly? Within the minute, that subject had ended as well, quite abruptly. It had shifted to talk of a lunar eclipse in the week to come… and rambled like the girls they were about how boring it would be. The moon was a place where life never was, so why bother to care about it. After all, is not that giant rocky sphere in the sky good for nothing? All it does is give the planet its rotational axis, therefore enabling seasonal changes and therefore making it possible for life as it was now… at a scene like this, one might feel sentiment for that big hunk of meteor pelted, tidally locked satellite, and understand why it would possibly want to escape the gravitational pull on such an 'amazing planet'. In yet another second, talk became personal again, for nobody cares about some silly dusty stone in the midnight sky when they could be talking about their own personal and unimportant (in the long run) lives. Everyone would, after all, rather talk about BRAD, instead of contemplate the workings and mysteries of the universe.

Fifteen minutes, heck practically an hour had gone by, yet the pink haired nurse had been on the phone for hours on end, and all she had been doing was talking with the lady on the other end, although one had to wonder how so many words can be spoken in an hour, yet not even remember to mention the fact that a madman was running loose in a place for injured animals! But still, some sexy guy is far more important than the well being and precision in one's career.

Who pray tell, was the lady on the other end of the line? Well, with the way technology had gone oh so far, the answer was always just in sight. On the other end of the line decked in formal uniform of the oh so commonly known lazy bums who wield those fun bashing sticks and know a splendorous spectrum of doughnut royal was a police woman, except she didn't exactly look the kind to go on the powder jelly frenzy. With blue hair and a slender form, she hardly looked the role of threatening or to be an imposing power of justice. Regardless, this lady was not quite in need of a formal introduction much like Joy, at least if the name 'Jenny' rings loud, ear drum shattering bells of 'Oh yea, I remember!' in thickest regions of the human skull.

Much the aberration, and appalling behavior that it was, the blue haired law enforcer was as much the average gossip gal as the nurse. With '911' as no good, what's the world coming to?

"So…" began Joy with yet more gossip. "Tell me how Jennycide went!" She asked. Ah, Jennycide, a day of reckoning. Many, many blue haired policewomen, and completely identical appearance defined the exciting nature of this family reunion, held in Yolving, a Region not too far from Kertonmel. "I want to…" Joy's words were cut short with the opening of the front door. "Ah, hold that thought!" the nurse realized as her brain finally returned to the real world.

"Sure, maybe later I can show you that hot dress I just got at the contest." the law enforcer smiled. To the young and naïve, as they say!

This new person to walk through the door appeared to be a boy. Perhaps no more than nineteen in age, a look into the light brown of his eyes could show you the world, and worlds beyond the world, and even worlds beyond those worlds too, though speaking to him might actually make you understand! To top his head, curled about in a splash of red was rather curt and slick hair. However, this was no mere red, it was the greyish red of freshly masoned bricks. If one were to rip the guy's hair off, run away laughing like a lunatic, and then throw it against a brick layered wall, the hair may be lost… forever! With a rather calm stride, he approached the nurse at the desk. As the words began to flow, a voice deep yet calm filled ear drums. "Hello again!" and the words themselves were of that like a cliché Viking, whose stories tell of men with great beards of oranges and reds, and muscles great and the power of the berserker. Too bad what appeared to be beneath a loose shirt the color of the reflection of dusts in the sunlit sky was skinniness, perhaps unhealthily so.

"Ah…" the nurse began, her brain racking for half a second, "You are… Verick? Right! You were here earlier, after all." she asked. She had remembered him coming by before after all, at about eleven o'clock in the morning. Might as well make just a little side talk. "So… how was the… Space Convention?" That was what he had told the pink haired lady after all. No harm in that knowledge.

"Wonderful!" his Norseman vigor in his every word, "It was the most wonderful chance to look into, and scientifically discuss Saturn, I ever had!" As he spoke however, the nurse raised her pink eyebrow in suspicion.

A woman knows so many things, and even the slightest change in voice tone is noted like a high frequency sonar. "It was bad, wasn't it." That was by far not a question. Call it intuition, but the fact remains that Joy was making a firm statement.

"Horrible! A waste of my time now, ya!" the Norseman spoke again, heavy accent in full swing. "I learned nothing of Iepatus as I wanted to! A total waste! Yet they all talked about the amazing atmosphere on Titan as actually mattering, when everyone already knows about it!" he sighed. It was probably a total waste of time to tell her all this anyway. Why, or how could this woman know anything much about anything that even happens three miles above the earth's surface? No, this would be a waste of time, for what much more did he know that could be said without raising any eyebrows? When it comes to the endlessness of time and light of the multitude of the universe, progress can be slow and unfulfilling, yet still they try. That's partially why so few people ever seemed to concern themselves with anything but the air around them! Wonderful!

"I take it you're here for your Clefairy?" the nurse asked, receiving a rather silent nod from the boy with hair of brick colored tint. All he wanted to do was get outside, find a nice and useful telescope, point it upwards, and from there, the sky would most certainly be anything but the limit! It would be the beginning!

"Ya!" nodded the Viking astronomer. What else could he ask for than his important partner in divulging space.

Of course, the magic of women bonding has, as stated quite blatantly, brings out the worst in them! It can also bring about more hormonal tendencies as well, though ever so faint that it's hardly a concern for conservative people. Her eyes had wandered, and a boy with red hair, and what the traffic cop noticed to be a bit of stubble on his chin smirked. "Who's the foreign guy?" she asked, her voice almost as though she was talking through a pair of most unmentionable lips of which no more shall be said, though those still in sight on the face was in a smirked most lastingly, if not exaggerated but a tad.

The nurse had once again been suckered into more gossip. "Just a space fanatic." the lady in pink grinned, causing the cop to stammer, as facial temperatures began to rise a few degrees due to flustering.

"Right… an Orbital Occultist…" the cop nodded, grinning smugly.

Verick's eyes went wide in fear, his jaw dropping widely. "What!" he screamed. "I… I am not, ya! Vhy would I…"

The cop giggled. "Relax, cutie, I'm only joking! You're not demonic enough." she smiled, looking back at the nurse. "So how's Jimmy?"

Unfortunately, that was when reality snapped back at her! "OH MY GOD! JIMMY!" she practically screamed. It was about danged time!

This would have been one of those moments. Those moments where a person screams, and suddenly you can see the fullness of the water covered sphere that is planet Earth, and then the telescopic camera lenses would scope even further, incorporating a cameo of the Moon, the noxiously cloudy Venus, and then zoom so far one would begin to wonder if life is truly insignificant, compared to the size of the universe.

At the closure of that simple interlude, we find the brother's Jimmy in a conflict of justice, pie, brotherly love, family values, Pokemon, staring contests, and the whole nine yards, even if it was currently a situation of metric proportions. In short, the scene has at long last returned to where an unclenched fist of clay and moldiness was about to give a crocodilian victim of blue the slap down of its lifetime!

This was it! It was all over all so soon all at the fate of earthly soft, yet powerful fists formed of the moldy substance known as clay. A sculpted being of the finest craft would place a ceramic 'smack down', so to speak, on the misfortunate crocodile. It seems that Philip Molson was still in quite a bind.

There was no stopping this hand now as it enclosed upon the crocodile of ocean blue, the beast began a frantic panic. "Do something!" commanded the Molson boy! "Is it so difficult to think on your own?" he sighed. Such a change had been most unwanted from amazing brain, to hapless soldier. Too late, for a firm slap 'splashed' a liquid clump of soft clay about as the crocodile was smashed against a kitchen wall.

"WHEE!" went the eternal insanity of the cur of a Jimmy who deserved none less than a steaming lifetime as a torture slave to Hades! "Ooh, clay fun!" his words rambled on like the lunatic he has long since established himself as.

The forces of inertia favored the little Totodile right then as it somehow was still alive, and beyond that, still conscious. With a slight growl from the beast's trainer, the demands resumed. "Gah! Stop sticking around and get back in there. Clean yourself off and make yourself a useful slave!" Phil's rage was once again beginning to get the better of him, and he still loved all the anger!

Yet, what he saw happen next amazed him. The crocodile opened its toothy jaw, as though it probably wanted to bite something, but instead of lunging to sink into a foe, what appeared to be a laser of a bright shade of blue sprung from its mouth. The moment it hit a surface, it was crystal clear that it was water for it splashed about, causing the drying clay to soften, and break apart! With the chant of its name in a raspy voice, it nodded in confirmation that it was still ok to go on, even though Phillip was probably more clueless than inanimate scarecrow when it came to these beings.

"Did you see…" he spoke to the sane Jimmy, his head shaking as though he had finally lost his mind at long last. "It puked on itself!" How else could the ignorant Molson know how to explain it? After all, it was his first week on the job, a job that was meant for HER… may she rest in peace!

"Actually that's natural." chuckled the chef. "Though you should consider your Pokemon's feelings. They are as sensitive as yours or mine… well, maybe not yours… but still, they are living beings. Maybe you should use that water on the clay creature…" the chef hinted ever slightly, yet it was more than enough to reap the flow of false hope. Of course, the words of love, and peace and blah-blah-blah were lost to a Phillip who simply didn't give a darn!

"Slash im!" it was psycho Jimmy! The ring pierced man had given another order of attack. And charging forward with the soft clay feet slinking across the tiled floor slowly was the earth mold warrior itself, and its crafted sword looked poised and sharp. One fell swipe could indeed fell the blue croc in just one swipe!

"Get outta the way!" Phillip roared in command. He felt that simply scrambling to safety was an obvious idea, but not everyone was so smart. Fortunately, this time the crocodile came through as it sprung off the ground and leapt to the left. It was hardly a close shave however, the sluggish blob of razor sharp clay was by far not even swinging the weapon yet, that and reptiles don't really have hair to speak about.

Of course, the nut-jobber of a human being who possessed the glob of moldy mineral was far from losing his cool, for he'd need to have some not so lost sanity beforehand, which is sadly lacked. "Body slammer!" the Jim-tastic freak commanded after a bout of his trademark laughter. Odd to the rather sluggish motions of before, with a push towards the ground and amazing torque, the beast of clay jolted maybe three feet into the air like a mighty yet ready to splatter catapult stone. This time, there was no avoiding any of it for the little gator and head on, the overbite reptile was slammed towards a cupboard of dishes, and the impact with such resulted in he inevitable breaking of some, causing cuts and a slight gash to cover the blue of its already battered body, a nice mark remaining at the left knee cap. Battling any further way out of the question as its chest heaved in and out rapidly, gasping for air amongst the clay and exhaustion and most likely even blood. In a battered, deep cough that would take weeks of heavy smoking to accomplish, blood was indeed in the equation as a small amount of red got caught up in an oral excretion of water. The taste of its own blood sent an unnatural chill through its scaly reptilian skin. Blood in itself was fine and dandy. A meaty helping of fish was often a bloody undertaking. Yet to taste its own blood, the crocodile did not feel well with the bitterness it brought with it. Were there no witnesses about, a warrior spirit would shatter for an instance and a sobbing and tears would likely follow.

"I don't get it!" Phillip raged as his right foot slammed against the floor, giving it a slight pang of sleep. Fury was most obviously the most prominent part of his bloodstream at that very moment. "Why does this… gah!" he merely waved his hand in the air like a youthful tabby swiping at a string of yarn, while not even realizing its own strength. He was just too frustrated to even care any more as his fists clenched tightly and trembled with the urge to lunge at anyone who dared to be the next person to even breathe. "Wimp!", to call him snide would be an understatement worthy of the moron of the year award.

"Call it back, Phillip!" the sane Jimmy said with an authentic Seal of Approval that basically smacked a sign on his head reading 'Who Needs a Spinal Cord?' Not that he couldn't take down the boy had he the need for self defense. Heck, he wouldn't even need to break a sweat, maybe a few bones, but not one droplets of perspiration would shatter upon the brownish red tiles of the kitchen floor. Suffice to say, not his own sweat.

If looks could kill, there wouldn't be the need for Medusa stories. Yet even then, one is transmogrified into silicate rock, and a reversal process is bound to be uncovered… some day, maybe. While looks killed, expressions were to die for, as Phillip merely let out all his anger through his nasal passages, in the form of carbon-dioxide. While it green housed the atmosphere, helping to kill humanity ever the slow death they bring, it was better than ending a life right there and then. Thusly, like bull or dragon, but without the vapor, the Molson boy subsided ever slightly. If anything, Jimmy did indeed have a point. A growl of anger formed at his throat as to let the world know he was still raging mad, and nobody could do a gosh damned thing about it! Perhaps it was the anger of needing to be reminded what to do, for the Molson boy had indeed forgotten about that simple rule, but dared not let it be outwardly displayed anger at himself. With a gritting of his teeth, the red and white striped ball was suddenly clenched in his hands, as an ever well known photon of infrared light shot forward to dematerialize the blasted and battered crocodile until it was healthy enough to be whittled down once again.

In all this time, the insane Jimmy had most obviously been one to stick out like a sore thumb lodged between the cheeks of a sore anus, hopefully his own. "Ooh! We won! WHEE!" he clapped his hands weakly as he jumped into the air like a frantic loony idiot or a still immature five year old. "Boo yes!" he boomed, slamming his hands against his chest repeatedly Tarzan as voice box changing from scrawny child to testosterone heavy football player, yet never be the chance to score a touchdown with reality, and he was beyond his first down of… something that definitely wasn't good for brain cells. "YEA! YEA!"

Yet, the clay sword beast simply rolled its eyes in a most slow and molded fashion. As it softly murmured to the world its name, the Claymore sighed in relaxation. Relieving it was, to now get to just continue lounging around in some portion of an immaterial world that was the Pokeball. It may not have enjoyed the insanity of the nutcase Jimmy, it surely didn't care one way or another what the whacked out man did, so long as the actions did not harm anything dear to the clay man itself without extremely good reason.

It was at that point that a strange jolt of pain wracked the clay spirit and squishy soul most dearly. With a scream of pain, the mineral sword wielder began to loose focus, as it gritted its sculpted, uncolored teeth and clutched its back where the pain was sharpest.

"Uh…" Phillip was confused now, as he wondered what could possibly… that was when he noticed the now sturdy string of silky white. What he saw at the other end amazed him. It was limited impressiveness, but there was perhaps now a bit more a snowball's chance on Venus to not cause enraged Molson at the drop of a hat. "Isn't that my Spinarak?"

It was a dumb and obvious question. Of course it was his, for who else could it belong to? Yet, what he saw was truly amazing. The image was a sturdy string of bright white stretching a few yards across the kitchen, latching itself to the mineral form of the beefy slab of moldable rocks. Then, like a non lactose intolerant child drinking their ever sacred chocolate milk from a straw almost as twisted as the insane Jimmy, the spider's head reared backwards ever slightly as slight slurping noises ensued. Its front left leg was extended, seemingly grasping the 'straw' as some possible form of semblance.

The taste of the absorption was not so bad. Liquids seemed to flow so freely like a liposuction treatment, and it had a natural taste like mineral water, or mineral oil, not like a spider KNEW what the heck such things were. As its mouth left the straw for a second, it chanted its name with its childishly light voice and followed it up with graceful manners by spitting out a bunch of small rocks. Pebble sized at their largest, they bounced against the hard floor with a rocky clank and gave way to inertia after a few bounces at most.

"I think that was absorb… or leech life. I forget." the sane Jimmy shrugged with a follow up of the trademark laughter he overly abused so much. Phillip was snapped out of his impressed trance most easily with that and shuddered.

"Ah… ok." he spoke unsurely. He had no idea what those words that were spoken even mean, or how they could possibly pertain to him. All he wanted now was to cut a jerk's throat from out of the flab of his neck and take the voice box as well for safe measure. How else could it ensure that he could NOT speak any more words of venom, a poison to his very soul. After that, he could take out his brother as well in similar fashion. He'd kill two jerks with one knife, and since this was a kitchen, it'd be most likely there'd be more than twenty knives to be found, and even then, that's already nineteen knives excessive of a job well done. Hallelujah!

The sharpness of the spidery vampirism had finally subsided from the mighty clay beast, and though he may have been insane, the beast's trainer knew not to let up a good chance. "WHEE! Spin him round the world!"

Whatever he meant, the message was clear, time for the earthen beast do some web 'spinning' . With a grasp to the sticky web upon its back and a mighty tear, and a loud ripping sound the straw had been severed from its feeding host. From there, a fierce tug on the ropey string began to propel it with a great force like an expert rodeo cowboy, with its creator of a spider caught attached to the other end. The rotation and great momentum did not quite do much harm. A spider is after all, born ready to hang upside down from the branches of trees and defy gravity. However, anything gets hurt when slammed into a tray after such a great build up of momentum, only to land in an empty metal pot that barely squeezed the critter inside of it. With just a lid a suffocation process could begin, considering the fact that Spinarak was in no condition want to fight any more.

"WHEE!" screamed, love him and hate him, psycho Jimmy. Another victory was his to claim, and he knew exactly what he was doing, as far as the battle went. Otherwise, it's just insane, unpredictable Jimmy doing what nobody expects, nor do they particularly want it at al

"I…" Phillip stammered, as though he was struggling to maintain control of his mind from an opposing force, a raging volcano! "am surrounded by…" he struggled still as he sighed, taking in a deep breath of air. It seemed all at once that he had finally chilled out with control of his anger. Then again, wait that such a miracle was better spent hope on something like surviving a twenty story fall into jagged silicate rocks at thrice the earth's gravity, for it was then, in a mighty yaup of rage that the tectonic rage won out, "JACKASSES!" By and far, tectonic it was! With the outburst was included a tantrum, and its behaviors of jumping up with the force of a

catapult and the downwards grace of an impacting meteor. Suffice to say, considering a creature made of flesh, all that truly happened was the clatter a few pots and dishes.

It was not as though the nutcase of a man was going to ever do anything to make things truly better. "Oooh, crybaby, crybaby! Hehehehahaha!" with the taunting immaturity of a toddler, and an exclusionary trademark laugh, it was nonsense as usual. "You's such as wussy!" he unleashed his laugh yet again following that!

All the while, a clay beast was trying to tune out all annoyance between the childish actions of Phillip, and the childish antics of its own commander. Achieving equilibrium amongst the entropy is never easy, unless you can control the existence of your ear drums with a molded expertise. It would know when its trainer would need it again. Even a moron like Jimmy had some plans up his sleeve, and at a rapid tapping of foot thrice in a row lightly, it would know if it was needed.

The sane brother eyed the young Phillip. It wasn't difficult to hate his demeaning and temperamental ways. The kvetching that boy could do and the violent rage that it bared was about the last thing a social beast wants to deal with to pass the time by. Its not like he could do anything about it. He was not exactly striking at anyone, and so long as it was just words, they could not hurt. 'A lie I tell myself. The flesh may heal quite readily but there's no true cure for a hemorrhaging soul!' Complaining about one's ability to not have control of the Sun was not uncommon amongst depressed individuals after all, and unlike most, the loss of a loved one, especially so close and younger than one's own self, is by far one of the least selfish, and by far most understandable reasons to go into depression. Still, he could not stand to bear witness to his groaning. 'Life goes on, and whether you decide to keep the pace or not, doesn't matter one damned bit!' "Calm down!" he snapped at the boy, suddenly feeling it would have been a fatal mistake. The fiery lava beginning to blaze in the angry youth's eyes were not something to withhold fear from. "You… look, you go help your Spinarak!" he sighed. The poor creature was caught in between a rock and a hard place, and he didn't know which one the Molson boy symbolically represented, if not both.

"Hmph!" went the angered growl of Phil's still oozing boiled silicate rage.

"I just washed that pot recently… and I don't think you want any permanent damage to the exoskeletal structure of your Pokemon." His hopes for being on the dot were fulfilled, perhaps it was a stroke of luck, for the boy complied.

"Aw… how sweet! Mmm, I smell chocolates! WHEE!" the insane brother giggled in trademark.

The sane brother sighed. Right about now, a blood leaking soul was indeed only getting worse at this moment. 'I'm going to regret every action I do from this second and onwards.' With an exhaling of air, he fished a poke ball out of his pocket. "Brother… it seems its now you and me." A battle of love was about to be fought. The worst part was, he was not even going to be the one to take up the fight to bear physical pain to match his inner hurt. It was going to be his Pokemon. If anything else, then the chef figured it would be a good fight, at the very least.


	15. Embrace of the Conspire

Well… seems to be a dry spell. Few, few readers, what gives? To all you loyal fans, tell your friends, and tell them to tell THEIR friends. I will do everything to avoid letting DtD attain oblivion!

**Dust to Deceit**

**Chapter 11: Embrace of the Conspire**

A smile gone bad contorted his face. "Well brother… I hate to have to do this…" it was Jimmy, the gourmet Jimmy. The sphere of red and white getting a caressing nine times over and then some as he swallowed his fate like a bowl of acidic soup in a cup of shattered glass, as the glass pierced his esophagus all the way down. "Let's do this." there was no enthusiasm, and if it was faked, there was no convincing in his tone. "Time to roll Chimrax! Whee!" In a flash of red photons, the draconic farm critter gone feline was unleashed once again as Jimmy growled slightly at his lack of control, fearing he may have gone a WHEE bit overboard.

"Oh goodie! A good fight!" to which the psycho mirror image unleashed a trademarked laughter. "Claymore!" he yelled, tapping his foot in a signal he used for better coordination between the both of them. The forever smile on his face only widened as he giggled. "You've been meditating! Oooh! Yay!" he grinned. "Start off with fury attack!" he commanded as his smile dithered slightly. It almost sounded as though he was to be serious about this.

The sane body double merely patted the beast on its draconic head, causing it to stick its reptilian tongue out spitefully at the other two sentient beings it shared its existence with. "You guys give it your all." It was no time to stall, for a work of ceramic fists were headed slowly in a juggernaut of molded earth. "Dodge and start off with scratch," the command went out and was followed immediately. As the fists of dried clay were mere inches away, a swift leap of catty graces swiftly brought the triple header to the air, lion's claws sharp and ready to lash back against the unruly earth warrior.

A gasp of slight pain was elicited from the sword wielding beast, but it was not anything that could not patch itself up with the molding of the body. A smirk sculpted its way to the creature's lips. "Follow up! Follow up! Follow up!" the insane Jimmy shouted as he suddenly became swift on the tips of his toes. "Mud Slap! Be-otch!" his voice changed, and suddenly he had learned the language of… Ebonics. From the sidelines, the thought of such a 'gangster' style for the loony dastard sent more shudders up Phillip's spine than his scary laugh.

As quickly as they had hardened, hands had turned to drippy slosh which lashed out at the chimera once more. This time however, there was no need to move its slow body, as mud whipped the lion's face forcefully. It reared its head back in pain as the goat screamed its two syllable name in fear. The lion was the main point of balance on the creature. It controlled the front legs and the cat graces. With it having clumps of clay, tiny rock and watered down minerals in its sharp eyes, it fell to the back legs ruled by goat and rather vestigial wings controlled by the draconic brain to bring things around. Suffice to say, with the angry thrashing of the lion that made up most of the body structure, things were going to be hectic.

"Stay calm boy," went the sane Jimmy, now a bit worried. "you're still two heads ahead of the game." there was no telling what could happen now. He had to make the best of it until the feline was calmed down from a rage fit for a jungle king. "We might want to keep some distance so let it rip with flamethrower!" he commanded. The dragon's head smiled as a slight stream of smoke escaped its nose. With a slight inhalation, flames red hot blazed from its mouth and nostrils. It would be like firing from a roller coaster however with a panicked lion to deal with. As the first beam of burning power spewed forth, the clay creature didn't even need to flinch for the lion was really not letting the rest of itself have any easy time. A nice scorch mark however clashed poorly against the white of the walls, even causing a melt on an unfortunate tin utensil. Whatever it was, it was quite ready to be mixed with some copper and smelted into a nice bronze hat, fit for anyone with a fashion sense for heavy metals.

The second fire wasn't quite as offbeat. "Lets have fun!" went the evil Jimmy as the fire came close to the groundling sword bearer. "Roll out, and roll him down. Whee!" the sudden swing of moods did not but further dissuade the hopes of recovering the man's sanity.

Roll indeed went the clay beast. Its body swiftly took the shape of a perfect sphere. Though not without first getting a slight burn on its grayish body. The fire, unlike the rending of its body caused it to hop upwards frantically in this ball shape as though it were a Mexican jumping bean. The slight darkening from burns of not even half a degree did not stop the focus of the clay creature as it quickly picked up velocity and momentum.

"Focus!" the sane Jimmy snapped, forgoing his trademarks in times of desperation. "Hold it…" he paused, an idea came to. "Reflect, hurry!" at the command, the goat's head snarled in focus as its willpower ushered up a force unseen, even as it had to deal with a dying down lion's thrashing of empty air. A force which caused the squishy clay ball to go splat against its greater kinetic force. As odd as it was, it was there in his face. The clay ball had plopped like an egg breaking on the ground, or a water balloon to be more specific. "What? We won?" it felt so ironic a victory.

The oddness of the win was only furthered by the smirk on the insane Jimmy's lips. "Aw, come out and play big brother!" pouted falsely the crazy body double. The pieces of clay began remolding once again, and though feeling a tad woozy from smashing stupidly into a wall, it was still rather pumped. "Maybe a funky sword dance will make you boogey!" and in spite of its odd wording, it was surprisingly a command. "SHAKE IT!"

With a slight rolling of the eyes, the sword master did as it was told, and whirled its blade in its hand like a wild buzz saw, yet was in total control as it pivoted its hips and legs in a spin, as well as a few funky dance steps. Yet at the end of the sacred dance, it merely smiled as a blue glow most unnatural enveloped the beast for a split second and a half.

The sane Jimmy was not quite as calm nor, ironically, not even half as collected as his nut job brother at this current time. 'Lets see. If I let my guard down, I lose. If I don't let my guard down, he'll just keep having it dance until it can shatter the shield… which means I'll lose worse. I wonder if I can dampen his plans… though I did do good with fire before and spidery leech life. I wonder…' he sighed as he resumed mental pursuit of an answer. 'Its my best shot here.' "Flap up a whirlwind."

The order was given as dragon's head heeded this call. With a growl, it hissed angrily at the lion. In less than ten syllables by human speech standards, an angry soliloquy where the lesson of the story was mainly 'Stop bitching!' seemed to calm the lion down, most likely by fear, even if there was still gunk in its feline eyes. Now with a stability, the creature was able to focus its wings, and with the starting of a few flaps per second to a great amount per second quickly enough, winds began to kick up as forks, knives and pots of all kinds swirled into the air.

Phillip had of course not been quiet during practically the whole fight. "I'd hate to be nearby wherever that stuff lands." He was not going to flee though. The thought of a few sharp prongs raining on the Jimmy brothers was worth the pain he himself could likely receive.

The heavy load of clay remained sturdy and strong against the wind. "Oooh! Slap mud at the wind!" the crazy Jimmy, had another crazy plan. Indeed, mud swirled about the cyclone, making the kitchen even more covered in gray slop than before. "Oooh, big bro likes dust storms? Hehehehahaha!"

The older Jimmy simply grinned calmly. "Nope, but you're leaving yourself defenseless." it was true. A careful observer would notice that the clay knight looked less massive than before, if not only by a mere percent as its body, watery and lacking density seemed to deteriorate. "Hold the winds and torch it with flamethrower!"

The dragon nodded as it unleashed a beam of fire yet again. In oddness, the mountain lion also unleashed oral blaze as well. This time, it struck more fiercely against the colder watery temperature of the wetted warrior. As it forced a fast drying process, the beast was unable to cope with the pressure of the heat as it yielded back and solidified not of its own accord. It seems the tables swiftly turned. A slightly size lacking Claymore now wobbled, dazed from the sulfurous and burning scent "Finish it!" Jimmy commanded, "Body slam it!" To this, goat took the stage as its blunt, spiraling horns took the ready.

"Oh no!" went the fool brother! There was not a spec of fear on his face, not a deterioration of smile. "Latch on and go boom! Self Destruct!" With a clay sigh, the beast of earth knew its fate all too well. Molding up its long knife, it leapt at the draconic mountain beast and stabbed its sword into the side of its back. Though it did tear flesh, the stab was nowhere near fatal. It did however cause three very different tones of pained scream to shout out in unison, only to be silenced as the stony beast glowed in white briefly before taking a nasty plunge. Neither creature was conscious at the end of it all.

The clay beast looked as though a chunk had been torn in an ice cream scooper, and the triple header was out on its side, a bloody gash near its left shoulder, as well as other cuts as well. 'What a disaster. Its so awful!' thought Gina as she peered at all the noise, her plan was going to be a lot harder than she had once thought.

Silverware and pots began making most ungraceful slamming noises against whatever surfaces they could. Nobody had to be told to hit the deck to know to clear the area. In the end, it was a hailstorm of gray and prongs, especially as one of the large wooden spoons struck Phillip in the back of the head.

The clang of utensils coupled with the thunderous loud thuds of large pots and pans was a symphony of heat insulated chaos! The dents on the pans only made everything all the better to hurt the funding. Even the psycho Jimmy had moved out of the way, by his own accord as well. The most he suffered was a butter knife harmlessly bouncing off of the rim of his shoe. "Ooh! More fight brother! More fight!" his giddiness was practically immortal. "WHEE!"

Phil's eyes however ogled something as it struck the iron tray cart that had run him over before as it lodged itself forcefully into the light metallic surface, poking itself through the bottom. It was a knife! A large carving knife, long like a saw, but sharp as steel. In the hands of a master, it could make just the right cut on a chicken leg, and could cut off its head in a precise slice as well, leaving it to run around headless for a most amusing, if not sickeningly cruel show. Ripping that psycho brother killer a new anus was quite a euphoric thought at the moment as the boy grinned wickedly warped by the ideal of salvation.

Had he cared, he's have seen the beads of sweat falling from the wrinkling forehead of the insane one whom was his newfound life obsession of slaying. It was as though the man was having an insanity meltdown and every waking moment was now an effort to stay as crazy as one lets themselves out to be.

It may have not snapped one as unwavering as Phil, but it sure seemed a brotherly empathy was no boundary to the ways of fear and regression. "I know this isn't you." was a firm statement from the sane brother. "You know its not you. You're just hiding behind a shell of regret and shame." a seconds pause to catch a breath and a second more to sigh, and the Jimmy spoke once more. "I cant say I don't blame you. In fact, I blame mother for everything." as he continued, it looked as though the man with a spatula or two was on the verge of tears. "You know you done wrong. Please, you're not only hurting yourself, but you're hurting others."

Even Gina had heard this, and in a swift turning of her green haired head, as though the eyes could hear what the eardrums could not, she listened close. Perhaps, she almost felt sorry. 'Abusive parent I'll bet. Just like dad.'

"Save the speeches!" bellowed Phillip, now knife wielding warrior of mass destruction. "Time to die!" and then he was off in blind rage. In fact, the rage was so blinding that he didn't see the sneaker of a size ten shoe until after it had slammed forcefully into his stomach, for some rather gut wrenchingly agonizing pain.

As the chef looked down at the boy now reeling at his temporarily fractured body, he proceeded to snatch the knife back from the boy who had taken it. It was after all, his property. "I had to do that. Just can't have you doing any more harm than the troublesome menace that you are." he scoffed to the one he had pummeled as his gaze turned back to his brother. "As for you, what's gotten into you bro? Do you remember who you are? Remember mother? She was a monster, a lousy trashy person. You didn't deserve any of the abuse or mistreatment."

Again, the crazy brother lost his composure, as though the psychotics was a mask of delicate, shrouding silk that was losing its potential. "N… no!" he weakly bellowed, no longer ignorant to the fears of reality. Waves of truth and realization smashed his soul, and shattered a frail conscious as the facts flooded his mind at a most rapid rate! It was clear now, he remembered everything. He remembered everyone. He even remembered their screams and pain, feeding on the agony to release stress in a most savage manner. Not all victims were humans, for even pokemon and other species lost their lives. Now the red of bloodshot was gone, replaced with painful tiredness and water from the tear ducts. "No…" was th last word that escaped his lips before nothing more than a symphony of bawling ensued. "I never…" his plea to who knows what of most simpering pity were lost, drowned in crying. Crying that a brotherly shoulder was there to use to support a body practically wishing it would no longer exist.

"There, there," went the oddly, falsely calm words of the broken man's older brother. "I know you did not mean a single one." his words had not a trace of sarcasm. How could he let his brother down in his time of greatest need. "I know. I still do care about you, little brother."

Through the sobs and emotionally haunting pain, the broken Jimmy spoke most frailly. "I… I didn't mean to…" A pause ensued as he stared into the nothingness of a messy kitchen, a mess brought about by the destructive nature of insanity, "I can't undo the past, and can't take anything back, but I want to! I want to so badly and be the one dead instead."

At that, a strangely out of place laughter ensued. It was eerily jovial, if not a bit sinister… it was the now recovering Phillip. Having not been unconscious in the least, he had been stunned and perhaps a bit short for breath, however "Hahaha! I'm sorry, I can't help it but to have overheard everything!" he still cackled mercilessly, as though the overbearing tickle of dark tendrils flayed gently at his mind. "You think you can go loony one minute, then pull a total shift of character to fool me?" his tone became more serious, softer, and more venomous. "You cannot escape now!" he roared as the razor sharp knife he eyed earlier as the be-all end-all problem solver. "You better hope there's no afterlife, cuz you'll only have not so much time until I cross over to continue to make you suffer!" he roared as an embodiment of vengeful fury.

Gina however, had been no idle little lady, and in a heartbeat was no longer hidden from the scene. "STOP!" she yelled, dashing and even leaping a table to reach her destination, which was basically anywhere between Phil and the ruined Jimmy at all costs. In her right hand, she held firmly gripped a wide frying pan, a metallic object most smooth and lustrously cast-iron. All in all, the real function of said pan was a world of hurt, and that's a surefire way to cook up trouble. As she stood now, facing Phil with a pained look of regret, but a shamefully determined posture to go with it, she sighed, and then spoke "Phil, please, don't." The words were soft-spoken, a tone seemingly unbefitting for the chaos of the room. "Is this really want you want?" to which Phil gave her a look of irritated nature.

"No…" he replied, faux generosity dripping from his every word so blatantly, "I want to love his sexy body and make sweet, GOD DAMNED BABIES!" his gradual calm died quickly as the red anger returned to his eyes, skin and boiled his blood to clenched fists at the end of his sarcastic speech. After all, he had only been itching to leave this man dead or begging for it since yesterday, and by now, the likelihood of a drastic change without any outside influences was surely impossible. "Oh wait, isn't that what he tried to do to YOU?" he extended a pointing finger of persecution fiercely at the green haired girl as her eyes watered into mud.

The chef Jimmy had about enough of this. "The death of your sister hurt you greatly." he stated as a matter of fact. "You feel a sense of loss and despair."

Phil snorted like a feral boar at that, continuing his rasp tone. "Why yes, how observent, I only said that, what? Only about eighty times! Do you wish to stall me any longer?" as his left foot tapped the floor impatiently with force. Had he used even a bit more energy in the tap, it would surely look like a one legged foot slamming temper tantrum.

"Phillip!" Gina yelled, practically out of calmness, "Don't you understand basic morals? If you kill him, then what of Jimmy's family? Would they be partying over his dead body like you would be doing so lonesome as you eat his flesh to enjoy the sweet taste of victory and drink his blood?" she was practically scolding, but the fear from the largeness of the pupils ensured she would not get too abrasive, lest a short temper leave an injured girl or worse.

"Eat his flesh you say? Wonderful!" he cheered, actually happy at the thought. "I'll remember that, it's only twenty seconds away from whenever you people stop getting in my way!"

"You don't get it! Damn it! What if with his death, Jimmy's chiefly brother follows your footsteps, and then you die! Then, let's say someone in your family lashes back. We have a battleground that only leaves suffering and misery for everyone in its wake." she blinked a few times rapidly to hold back the water that threatened to reveal weakness. "Is that… is it what you really want? If it is, then you're going to need to go through me."

Phil's eyes widened at this, but the red cracks along the pupils of blooded rage remained. There it was, betrayal! There was no doubt about it in his mind without even a second reconsideration. The girl stood in his way, and she was armed as well. "Traitor!" he literally spat on the floor, mustering as much mucus as he could for extra flavor. "You stab me in the back after I save you from getting your ass stabbed in a way I don't think would leave you braves to do anything more than live under an undeserved self morbid fascination for suicide! " he chuckled coldly at that poor, if not sick innuendo. "I saved you because I cared, and hoped we could be friends. I guess your true color is shown, and its as ugly as you are! I guess if you want to stab me in the back, then maybe I won't have any need to feel guilty returning the favor." Had he been any less agitated, he'd have suffocated to death to merely begin saying these horrendous bouts of blasphemy. These words to a girl younger and probably frailer than him, but that was not the case as at this state, he felt he could rip a blanket made of hardened diamonds, if such a thing could exist and leave its extra pressurized crystallized carbon fabric disintegrated as papery shreds. A girl he felt he may have felt a physical attraction to… far outweighed by the extremist differences of beliefs and morals.

Gina's patience was on a thinner than-a-fly thread barely holding a giant boulder over a deep chasm. "You don't mean that!" she snapped. "You don't mean any of the words you've said. You're full of crap! You just want me to believe you, but I know you're just scared. Scared of how inferior you feel. I can tell, and you're lying to yourself."

It was at this point that the Molson boy could stand no more. "You're just an uptight bitch!" his anger fed him the words. Extending his hand, he lashed out to give the girl a swift backhanded slap. The hand however, never reached its target as her arm extended in a rising upper block. Phil was enraged, if not a bit astonished.

"When you live with a father who's violent alcoholic, you tend to learn a few things to defend yourself!" the girl retorted now harsh toned herself. "Maybe you live in your perfect caring family, but I'd trade my hair to hear my father say the words 'I love you.' and mean it!" she could not hold back the pain and salted tears any longer, as her composure broke.

But this did not break Phil at all. "Do not think I am stupid!" he roared at Gina in spite of her tormented now spilled bottled up feelings and secrets. "I have met your father, and he is not a bad man. I know this, and know you're trying to pull off some scheme here. It wont work!" he contemplated the thought of taking another unskilled swipe at the girl, but decided not to for now. "You wont feed me more lies of this conspiracy!"

"I thought you of all people know the working mind of the actor, or is that not one of your grand dreams any more and would rather fester in prison?" she hissed, a tightening knot in her stomach pulling at her all the while for even thinking she could utter such rage, and that the monster that everyone has inside them may be trying to break free in spite of strong will.

The crying, once insane man spoke up, afraid that the tendrils of death would envelope him, but he spoke anyway. "It was when my hateful mother tried to hurt me as she usually did and I could take no more. I accidentally struck too hard and killed her in the process."

This of course caught Phil's attention in a heartbeat. "Oh, so the monster now admits even more crimes. You deserved all the pain your mother gave you, you rat bastard!"

"Bastard indeed… wanna hear a story?" the older chef sternly agreed before harshly laying down some facts, without waiting for confirmation. "You see, in spite of having a loving father, our mother was promiscuous, a dirty whore! I was of true genetic backings from both parents. It was apparent in my brother's blood type however that he was not. Dad was B, mom was O type, but Jimmy was A type blood. In anger, dad up and left with a feeling of betrayal. The strange thing is, the courts did not give him custody. He wanted us both, even against the issue of genetics, since we were still his children." he sighed, the details of this story were always hard to digest, but even more difficult to actually regurgitate. "Dad brought home the real money that let us get by. Mother's prostitution was never a moneymaker, and as such, she felt hate. Hate for the child that dared to be born to give away her promiscuity, after her false promise not to do so any more. She missed our dad, not out of love, but because he kept the family financially secure. Now there was nothing left to do but hate the child that caused him to leave. Hate the mere baby that was my little brother. I was treated fine, but he would be nearly starved, only fed to keep him alive. I'm guessing he was probably some stress reliever, if his death was prevented. I did all I could to help my brother, even when mother threatened to disown me!" he sighed, taking a breather from this long speech, yet unable to bawl out into tears, even if he wanted to. Sometimes, there are times that tears would never suffice, regardless of situation. "Suffice to say, it was me who committed the killing blow. It was something I still don't regret! She was a piece of true and honest to god !" he clenched his fist. "I cannot let you hurt my brother. When the police arrive, I will be telling them everything that happened here." he paused as he pat his brother soothingly on the back in supportive embrace. "And I will, like in the past, support my brother, even in the face of death. Even against the law! Then again, I guess you know family loyalty, but to you, boy, its as thick as blood, and nothing else!"

An hour or two passed. The cops had arrived on the scene of the crime. Questioning was in order. The blue haired woman who had spoken to the nurse on the phone glared at the elder, chef Jimmy. "Well, this is all very difficult to digest, but your brother may need to be taken into custody if you can't find someone for him to judge him for a redemption quest." She paused, sighing as she knew what he would say. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think leaving him in your care is the smartest idea."

A redemption quest... it was, the chef's idea for his younger brother to take it up, and in spite of its name, was less of a true quest, and more of a form of proving one's innocence. It was for criminals who were probably worthy of a second chance. Such as those who were only committing crimes under a will not their own. The younger Jimmy was, at least according to his older brother, worthy of this journey of redemption. "Look at him!" He said, as his eyes were in a serious and saddened tone as he addressed the blue haired officer.

To his right, the ring faced man sat there, crying, his knees curled upwards with his head held down in shame. He looked so weak and helpless, as though he wanted to die, but not by his own hand. The older brother spoke again. "Does this look like the man who would benefit from jail?"

The officer sighed. "No, it does not." She had to admit, even rehabilitation would never be as befitting for someone like him. He was lost, and broken. He needed a reason to live. He could be able to do good things with his life if he were given the hope for a future and a tomorrow. Either way, "But the justice system calls for some form of punishment!" The officer stated sternly, only to sigh a second later. "I will need to hold him in custody until you can find someone for him to take him on his redemption quest. Family members are not allowed to be the redeemer, due to their likelihood of supporting the criminal in question. You have a week before I send him off."

"Officer!" chimed in the voice of a young girl. "I'll take Jimmy on his quest."

The officer and chef both whirled around, only to come face to face with green hair. The chef was a bit taken aback. "Gina? You want to?" The girl simply nodded, her eyes proving how serious she was about the idea, even after the younger Jimmy had nearly done her... and done her in as well.

"Yes I do!" she replied. "I know what its like to have a cruel parent!" Her eyes watered as she gazed downwards. "I don't want to see anyone else suffer from such a fate. It's not entirely his fault."

The older Jimmy smiled, as he put a hand on her shoulder, and knelt down to meet her at eye level. "Thank you!" he gasped, "Thank you so much!"


	16. Chew the Rat With Me

1So... no new readers, eh? What's wrong? Is it something I'm doing? Is there something wrong with the story itself? Are you people too god damned lazy to hit the review button? Tell me! Tell me honestly what the problem is, seriously.

This chapter is aq first person chapter. Whee! I hope you people have the brain to remember REVIEW! REVIER REVIEW REVIEW! I suffer this lack of reviews everywhere I post it, so please, don't let this unique and original story go to the pooper tube here too. I implore of every LAST one of you!

**Dust to Deceit**

_Life is filled with oddities. In our near eternal existence, you might be surprised to hear this from one such as me, but sometimes, I wonder if there are things far greater, far more powerful, and deadlier. It is a big universe, and I can only fly so high! What is out there, just beyond our reach? _  
-Moltres, from the Book 'Mind Set of a Featherbrained Phoenix'

**Interlude 4: Chew the Rat With Me**

The drippy leaves and wet grass chill my paws slightly as I creep slowly through the lush forest. My breath heaves heavily as I pause to catch my breath. Most look at my purple fur and curly tail and look at me as a maggot, but to be honest, I could care less about that which humanity has to say about me, since I am not subjected to their whims and control.

I am a Rattata, and though most would call me and my kind 'pests,' we are crafty and adaptable. How else would we manage to find any habitat suitable, from the darkest caves, to the tundra. We are strong in numbers. Numbers which we ensure are made as constantly as possible.

Regardless of our numbers, I have grown sentimental to one of our kind which hatched from my bloodline. He is my son, and is the best thing I could have asked for... not that I ever ask for much anyway. In fact, besides my child, I am a loner, and my son makes me proud as a lone hunter as well.

Within a few seconds, my son has dashed to my side. His long fangs bared, as he roars, then closes his mouth to smile as he awaits the scatter of frightened prey. They say our kind eats anything, which is only partly true. We eat many things, and in return, we are able to live in places that you humans could never even fathom. Still, we prefer meat, since we are, mainly carnivorous, as if the fangs weren't enough of an indication of that.

Bah! My son growls. Nothing here, dad. What gives? He frowned, eager to catch a nice juicy Pidgey, or anything we could get our sharp fangs on. We're not picky, really, since, I'll reiterate for the ten millionth time thus far, we'll eat almost anything! I feel like a broken... uh, well... what do you humans call those large, black doughnuts that make funny noises again? Yea, I feel like a broken one of those, cracked to pieces and just... uh, well, I have no idea what they even do, so I might as well let this subject drop.

My son's mouth chitters calmly as he scratches at his nose and whiskers. The boy's quite a spirited one, and I'm glad to call him my son. He is, after all, unique, as am I, for you see, we were both born with the ability to breathe fire. I'm not too sure how. My mother died some time before I hatched, and apparently, from my genetics, my son has attained my power.

This is hardly a bad thing to have, but most other rattata are wary of us for this simple fact. I'm not sure where I got it, but it certainly helps me fight, and Pidgey taste better when they're medium rare, and they're healthier too.

Relax son. I reply calmly, yet cautiously as I sniff the air. We are small creatures, us Rattata, and we sometimes must fight beasts thrice our size, from Pidgeot to Growlithe, we are a common prey to many creatures. Still, we persevere, because we make numbers, and with many of us, we are powerful. Huh? I belt out as I hear a familiar sound. It is not too loud, but it chills me to the bone. It is the howl... the howl of a Houndoom, and it sounds close. We must move now! I hiss to my son, as my curled tail stands on edge.

He nods as stands ready to run fast and far away. Right, dad! Let's go I do not think he has heard the howl of the demonic wolf, and I am thankful for that. Houndoom are deadly beasts who kill for pleasure as much as they do for the food. They are not common in these parts, but when they are upon you, you know pray for quick death. Since these dogs are satanic beasts, it is usually drawn out and slow as they laugh at your burning body.

We run as swiftly as our small legs can carry us, which is thankfully very far and very fast, yet as I sniff the air amongst the underbrush of the forest, I catch the scent of burning and of dog. When together, they repulse me to my stomach, and my will to hunt is suddenly gone at least until later.

What's that smell, dad? asks my son curiously, I think he is somewhat scared. No, this is not good. I have a bad feeling about all of this, and I suddenly stop in my tracks, and my eyes widen. My child looks back at me, as he remains running, a concerned look on his face. Papa? he asks, concerned for my health.

LOOK OUT! I screech at the top of my lungs, as a ferocious, black jaw lunges at my son from behind a thick patch of extra-tall grass. It is too late though. Time slows down, and everything feels so painful. As the teeth sink into my child's neck and chest, I feel as though it is me being eaten instead... slowly, from the inside.

I want to scream, scream to make the black, leathery hide beast stop... but I can't. This black beast with skeletal markings from hell just made a snack of my son. I snarl, and my claws dig into the dirt, as my spine tingled with fear and tension. I could feel the breathing of the beast as it chewed at the lifeless body of my offspring, and wanted to strike, but I was struck first, with fear.

The dog looks at me, its horned head rearing backwards as it glares at me. Ah, another rat. How fun... It grins, eyeing me up and down as though I were a piece of meat (not that I wasn't in this here scenario, but it's still a bit degrading.)

I snarl at the creature as my eyes, I'd swear I were going crazy, began to glow deep red, and in a foolish move, I unleashed a stream of fire at the hell hound, the flames taking on a circular shape, much like the human 'wheel.' As it struck the creature, the beast's demonic eyes widened as it wagged its thin, pointed tail. It was hardly even fazed by one of its own element.

Ah! It grinned. Yes! I understand now! It grinned, laughing in a deep, cruel tone. You must be one of my offspring.

What... the... FUCK! I must be hearing things. Don't spout hell spawn speeches! I... I'll... I'm scared. I'm scared that I too might die.

The houndoom laughs even more sinisterly, as it grins. No, I am not mistaken. I get the strange feeling that I am eating my grandson.

Sh... shut up! I roar, my voice quivering as I do.

The hound grins. All this while, he has been talking as he chewed the hide of my son. The blood on its fangs sickens me to my stomach. I'd vomit if I weren't too afraid to even MOVE.

I am certain of it! The dog states with assurance. You see, there are few Houndour in this area, and as such, my bloodline runs thin... but I am no fool! I know that even lesser beasts, even you 'rats,' can grow from my bloodline and continue my legacy in a twisted way. After all, it's why I raped your mother!

My eyes widened! If what this demon was saying were true, then it would surely urge to jump into the canine mandibles of ending and join my son immed... NO! I can't give up now! I CAN'T! If I would, I'd be the worst rattata ever to exist. My cursed blood was a challenge, now more so than ever, and I would climb to beat that challenge at all costs! You will die! I snarl, angrily, but I am still terrified as I speak to the beast three times my size. I must kill it, I must... or I would no doubt be its next victim!

It laughs at my fear and stammering threats. The cloudy grey sky suddenly feels three times darker, and my world looks so bleak as well. I... I'm terrified, but as my claw grasps the ground beneath, I swallow my pride, and the big lump forming in my throat, and snarl! ! I scream, as my tail stands on edge, as I run at the beast blindly and fast!

I strike at its chest, and the hell hound seems a bit startled. With an evil chuckle, the beast tosses my son's dead body away. I can see the bones beneath its chewed away flesh, and it is covered in blood. No time to get caught up in my pain now, or that'll be my fate too.

With a quick leap into the air, I avoid the jaws that would surely seal my fate, and strike back with my fangs, sinking into the creature's leg. With a howl of pain, the beast shakes its left, and now bleeding paw to get me off, but it does not work. It is then that I feel the razor teeth upon me. They do not sink in, thankfully, because I dashed away as fast as I could, but they still left a scrape on my now bleeding underbelly. I am still alive, and want to remain that way.

Unfortunately for me, the hell spawn had other methods of fighting than tooth. I had almost forgotten about the fire... my fire inherited from that bastard who calls himself my father! His flames are intense and strong, and as I run, they follow me as I attempt to jump above, and to the left. I am pelted with a burning pain for about two seconds, and then fall to the ground, my body burnt and in pain.

The houndoom approaches me,. A grin on its face, as its tongue lick menacingly against its lips. "Well now, I see the Rattata are not worthy of my noble bloodline. A shame really." He grins, no doubt this is my end. I shut my eyes, unable to bear the sight of even my own death.

That's when I felt it... calm, and wet, and repetitive. Rain! Yes, its raining again, and I can easily see the houndoom snarling and reeling back in pain. It is a beast of hellfire... I guess it is hurt by water, and badly at that!

Gah! It snarls in pain. Its voice was no longer filled with twisted and malicious exuberance. Damn rain! It snarls again, You... you are lucky to escape here today with your life! It tells me. I must wonder though if I really am. That was the end of my son, and now I am... I'm alone! Don't you understand how painful loneliness can be. I could always make a new son, right? I could always wash away my sorrows by spreading my cursed Houndoom genetics, only to pass on the curse of hellfire.

Maybe this wild life is not for me. I must get stronger! I think... maybe I should find a human owner. After all, they give their Pokemon a purpose to their lives, and provide 'love' of sorts, and they empower their Pokemon with strange powers in the form of glass doughnuts, smaller than the kind I mentioned before. They're also of a brighter color than that one I called broken.

I look over my injuries, as rain pelts me calmly. I am bleeding and burnt and injured. I'm not too sure a human wants a tattered creature, so with that, I get to work, licking at my wounds. I will wait, perhaps closer to civilization... where I will find myself many humanoids. Their strange customs confuse me, but mark my words, I will find one, and in due time, I will return stronger... strong enough to finally exact my revenge!


	17. Sweet Dreams, A Bird of the Flame

**Dust to Deceit**

_Hello there, little creature! How nice of you to survive our magnificent storm! Perhaps, you would like to be honored, as a sacrifice, and honored you should be. It is not every day that one is hand picked by an Oni! Be honored, little camel._  
-Spookoni, Three Seconds Before Invoking a Curse Upon All Camels

**Interlude 5: Sweet Dreams, a Bird of the Flame**

Proud, fiery wings spread wide, as an equally fiery bird's mane stretched and shook. Any man, should he earn the chance to gaze upon such a mighty beast, would be honored to be in the graceful presence of the Kanto legend, Moltres, pheonix of cleansing fire! With a loud avian squak, and a stretch of its wings, the avian of flames glanced about cautiously. It's surroundings were a complete mystery to the beast.

The beast was... well, nowhere. Though it looked as though it was standing on solid ground, the universe around it was pitch black, and even the brightness of the bird's wings revealed nothing of it's surroundings. Yet, following a quick jab of its beak to scratch at its golden-yellow underbelly, something was suddenly standing before it.

This... creature, as it seemed to be, was odd. It looked almost human, as it sat in thin air, levitating in place. It's body was unclothed, but it hardly seemed to matter much to something like the legendary Moltres. It's skin appeared blue, like the bright sky, though closer to a periwinkle shade. It's feed and hands seemed to lack the appendages that made human hands so advanced, as they stayed around the body, crossed as though it were cold, or hiding something on its chest. This led Moltres to believe that the beast was a girl of sorts, but then again, the beast of the flame had no clue what this creature was, or even if it had a gender.

It's black, huge eyes reflected the bird's image nicely like a darkened mirror, as its small mouth opened and spoke in an effeminate tone. "Ooh!" it started, sounding in awe. "You is Pretty Bird!"

The flaming legend gazed at the weird creature before him. Uh, thanks... I guess. It wasn't sure whether or not the humanoid enigma could even understand it, but it spoke the language in its bird squak anyway.

"You no guess!" the blue humanoid said with a girly giggle. "You bring you does. Pretty Bird you bring fate you does bring fate!" It spoke a mile a minute, making Moltres wonder if it even needed to breathe, but it was certain now that communication was not a problem. "Pretty Bird brings fate you does!"

Fate... that was a laugh! Moltres never had seen itself as a harbinger of fate. Maybe the other birds were more worthy, but Moltres? Why not one of the others, far more worthy. First to pop to the avian's mind was Zapdos, its yellow, illuminating body vividly was displayed in its subconscious. It's great, jagged wings, though unwieldy by look, were actually empowered by the magnetic poles to grace its flight with speed, and empower its electrical storms.  
Zapdos was as quick as lightning, and so was it's mind. Though not always one to make perfect decisions, the bird of golden thunder was nothing short of intelligent, and loyal to its homeland of Kanto, and to the Earth itself. With power, and grace, Zapdos would always be an ideal choice, should destiny have need for a legendary intervention.

Then, there was the other bird, Arcticuno, the avian legend of ice. The vision of icy wings, as blue as a pure stream, and a long tail with feathers that sprinkled the world below it in purity, and soft ice crystals. Arcticuno was not as fast, or destructive as either Zapdos or Moltres, but the bird of the cold was a sturdy one, with feathers that let it survive so far from the arctic circle, and let it manipulate the breezes and gales of the stratosphere if ever the need arose. By mind set, Articuno was cool tempered, and calm. When a problem was too hard for Zapdos to comprehend, Arcticuno was (almost) always patient, even if the world were to crumble to a rocky mess, imploding from the inside out. If anything, Arcticuno was probably just as, if not even more worthy than Zapdos of handling a dire situation.

Then, that left Moltres itself. Amongst legends, Moltres was the ingenuity... the one who sparked ideas like wildfire. Yet, unlike the others of his triad, Moltres lacked the will to perform, and the ability to enact upon his thoughts. As well, his ability to think outside the box was a curse, s much as it was a blessing. Whatever 'blessing' this was considered, it sure was uncertain to the phoenix. It almost longed to be... human. To be able to live a simpler, and mortal life, and talk amongst other humans about things that never mattered, while at the same time, be able to think many things beyond the comprehension of a Pokemon... even if said Pokemon was a god of sorts.

Humans, after all, were fortunate to have short, yet fulfilling lives... but legendaries were practically eternal Pokemon who existed only to protect and serve the land. It was this blissful, and short existence that the phoenix dreamed of having, so that one day, it could pass on from this unfulfilling life, to a place where even the gods could not even know about.

Indeed, a curse. Moltres was often one to dream... which reminded the beast that it must have been dreaming, because the last thing it remembered, was falling asleep. Even a legendary needed rest and sustenance. Though ageless, they could bleed, and die of injuries if weak.

What do... Moltres began with a surprisingly calm sigh. What is it?

The weird being seemed void of emotion, as its wide, alien eyes continued to reflect the image of the bird that was perched patiently before it. "Pretty Bird!" It shout in a rather random outburst. "I come to tell Pretty Bird of destiny and how I wants to ravage pretty bird! Ravage Pretty Bird I wants to do. Ravage Pretty Bird long time!" It sounded happy as it spoke, yet it still sat there, its arms and hands completely unmoving as it cheered vigorously. As it giggled, its hands moved, revealing a flat abdomen, lacking of any form of gender discernable features.

Moltres, rolled its eyes. I hate to ruin your fun, The bird outright lied, indeed glad for this fact. Well, I'm, as humans have come to call us, a legendary... The bird paused, as its eyes narrowed in a sharper, sterner gaze. That means I don't have genitals!  
"You so pretty Pretty Bird!" The awkward blue being said again without pausing at proper points in his sentence. "I ravage you long time! Pretty Bird!" It was hardly even listening to Moltres as its blue, fingerless hands clasped themselves together, as it proceeded to giggle again. "Big sea beast far away I ravage you long time!"

The bird's eyes widened slightly at this. Sea Beast? You mean Lugia?

"Sea beast gone!" The blue humanoid said in a high pitched voice. "Now pretty Pretty Bird can be ravaged by me! Pretty Bird Pretty Bird!"

Who are you? the phoenix asked suspiciously. This humanoid was peculiar. From what Moltres was figuring, it a strange entity with a seemingly insatiable hunger for the bird's nonexistent private parts. More than ever, being a legendary never felt so reassuring.

The blue creature giggled, but stopped abruptly at the question. "I?" It asked. "I am..." It paused. Dear god, it seemed to be thinking, from Moltres' perspective. "I'm me..." it replied at last, wioth its hands pointing at itself. "DUH!" it added with overtly loud, yet oddly giddy sarcasm. "I'm me duh!" it repeated, this time forgetting to pause where needed in a run on sentence.

Moltres nodded, the bird's eyes rolling at 'Me' I see... how informative. Now, what is this about destiny?

"FATE!" 'Me' yelled intrusively, as though it were the only correct word.

Moltres nodded yet again, enthusiasm all but gone. You are an encyclopedia of knowledge. The flame avian commented. The mention of encyclopedia made the bird feel almost lonely, and with the feeling of time as of the essence with the ability to think deeply, Moltres needed a hobby, and it came to the bird in the form of writing.

Now, naturally, being without an opposable thumb, the ability to wield the pen, which as everyone knows, is thrice the might of the sword and then some. Instead, Moltres had to use its beak VERY carefully. After all, a single sneeze could burn the current piece of paper or parchment to ashes, though it made for an effective eraser, and finding human or Pokemon to scribe the work was putting the beast's reputation at risk.

Well, regardless of the details, Moltres has a published book out there today. 'Mind Set of a Featherbrained Phoenix,' which happened to make surprisingly good sales... as if Moltres really needed money. No, money could never buy a new existence... no money could truly make the avian philosopher become human. Tell me about my 'fate. Does it involve Arcticuno and Zapdos as well?

'Me' shook its head, its eyes blinking for the third time since Moltres had seen it. "Eww! No, they too ugly! They ugly Ugly Birds! I kill them for you, cuz you is Pretty Bird!"  
Amusing... Moltres said, knowing full well that the blue sky humanoid could certainly not do a damned thing against the might of the other birds, and quite frankly, the bird was starting to take its words with a grain of salt. Yet, Moltres was not so stupid as to disregard the blue creature entirely, and as such, decided to play along... at least until he woke up from this dream.

"Pretty Bird has fate against The Four or Five!" 'Me' stated with a giggle. "Heh! Pretty Bird will get hurt, and I will ravage Pretty Bird! Pretty Bird, Pretty Bird ravaged by I, Pretty Bird will be it will be it is does happen!" At this point, the periwinkle one was making almost no sense.

Four or five... Moltres stated with a calm thought. Hmm, is is Rayik? They have the four legendary swords: Masmun, Murasa, Excalb, and Ragnor. Moltres shook it's head at that, causing a few embers to get flung through the black nothingness of the eternity of his odd dream.

"The four or five!" the giddy humanoid repeated. "Four or five, they faces you!"

Moltres' eyes shot open. Faces... that word struck deep within the confines of the bird's skull. Could it be... wait, me? Me... against the Oni of Kertonmel?

"No, I not going. You fighting the Four or Five DUH!" 'Me' stated obviously. "The Four or Five Four or Five Four or Five!" the periwinkle one repeated over and over again.

You must be joking... Moltres said in a serious tone. Wait... Lugia's there! In the bird's strange sense of fear at the mere thought of dealing with the Oni, things were starting to make sense in a freakish way. I must return to the waking world, now!

"But me wants ravage you!" the bluer oddity stated in a pout. It certainly wasn't winning over Moltres. There was no way the bird would let anything get their way with its nonexistent genitalia, no matter what. "If you want wake, I must ravage you. Ravage you long time!"

No! Moltres stated firmly. I must awaken now!

"But I want ravage Pretty Bird Pretty Bird."

It was amazing how little the blue humanoid had moved the whole time. The only thing that Moltres even noticed moving were the creature's mouth (which simply wouldn't STOP moving no matter what,) its eyes, and its unappendaged hands. It was still sitting in its levitated state of odd calm, yet was hyper all the while.

As much as Moltres didn't wish to believe what it was hearing, it would not let down anyone with its job as a legend. If Lugia needed help because the Oni were acting out of line, then the bird would do its job to protect and serve. I must go now! I must fight the 'Four or Five.'

"Four or Five!" the creature giggled. "You go fly straight upward and eventually you go wakey! I wants to ravage you, I ravage you long time next time I ravage you I does Pretty Bird I ravage!"  
The bird of legend didn't need to hear any more. With an vertical trajectory, the body of the phoenix took on an orange glow, and swiftly, the bird took to the air, in hopes of leaving this emptiness, and getting away from 'Me.'

As the bird departed, the blue humanoid's eyes began to shift. The empty black reflectors were still there, but an illumination of bright green spheres took shape in the middle. As they did, they slanted inwards, as the beast grinned almost sinisterly. "Pretty Bird a fool! I ravage Pretty Bird good. Ravage Pretty Bird ravage Pretty Bird." Its voice sound more sinister this time around.


	18. In Which We Begin, Again

Well, here is... Chapter Twelve at long last! You too can be on the watch list, so stop waiting and get the heck on already! **Warning**! If you see V where you know a W should be, then just remember that someone is using a German/Viking European accent of sorts, you've been varned, ya! Anyvay... er, ahem! I mean ANYWAY, on with the show!

**Dust to Deceit**

_With all the pain and sadness, I'm surprised at my ability to keep myself calm and optimistic. I must honestly have problems. There has to be something wrong with me. Am I wrong to try and stay happy while many people suffer with misery?_

-Gina Meshing

**Chapter 12: In Which We Begin... Again!**

Phil Molson snarled yet again. His ears must have been working incorrectly, there was no other possible explanation for why Gina Meshing would even dream of inviting the murderous Jimmy to tag along. "We're not taking him with us." the boy stated firmly, as he scraped a piece of sticky food from his black, short sleeved shirt.

Gina shrugged. She would have to let him know the truth eventually, and tell Phillip how she felt about him, and just being around him in general. She would tell him about this feeling welling up inside her when she was near him and the emotions they instilled within her. She wouldn't say them just yet though. "Don't worry. 'We' aren't." She assured him with emphasis on we. "I am."

Phil grunted, and visibly showed his displeasure. "You're just contradicting yourself here!"

Gina grinned. "No, no I'm not..." she smiled. Yes, now she would tell him. At long last, she would let him know. "You're on your own, Phil!"

Phil needed a few seconds to absorb this. How could this girl prefer Jimmy to him? How could she want to be with a man who almost killed her, and accept his trust only a day later. As Phil sat on the couch by the TV, he had one simple, yet obvious question to ask. "Why? Why him over me?" After all, as mentioned before, Phil risked his life to save her. Was this truly a worthy way of being repaid for his good deed?

"Because..." Gina began with a sigh, as she brushed aside a small strand of her cascading green hair. "Well, quite simply, you're a temperamental person with low self-esteem!"

Phillip glanced from left to right. "What the hell are you saying?" He was, for the most part, ignoring her words, and their potential idiocy.

Gina spoke up again. "You're like a brainwashed soldier, Phillip."

He looked at her as though she had grown a long, hairy beard as pink as cotton candy, and thrice as dissolvent. "Excuse me?" he asked, not knowing what on this planet, or the next (Venus more likely, since it was bigger and closer,) that Gina was talking about, or how he was a soldier. Phil was no warrior, and definitely didn't have the will to fight random strangers in faraway lands. He was also a bit scared of death, like most sane and living beings. "Just because I have declared war and Jihad on murder man doesn't mean I'm Sargent Hullabaloo or whatever."

Gina shook her head. "Noldin Spacro was a good man, who had just left college when he was drafted to the military." The girl stated, confusing Phil with facts of how the heck this had anything to do with his revenge. "When he went to battle after much military training, he became obsessed with killing and bloodlust." She explained, sighing and shaking slightly as she spoke. "He was eager to kill, and cared about the rush of power more than anything... even the risk of death."

Phil, snorted in disgust and disbelief, "That has nothing to do with this!" he snapped, turning his head away from the girl. "Now leave me alone! The Unsoggable Milk should be on tonight if I'm not mistaken."

With that, he swiftly lunged for the channel changer, and aimed it for the TV. With a few clicks of the numbers on the changer, he had reached his destination. From the TV, Phil heard a loud, enraged voice. 'Milk Splash!' yelled a man that was way too white of skin. Literally, he was the color of milk.

Gina however, did not like his lack of attention at all. A reasonable cause to be angry, of course. In a swift motion, she grabbed the remote from Phil's hand, and clicked the off button, just as what appeared to be a bottle of chocolate syrup was about to hit the milky man on the TV screen. "Do you mind?"

"I sure do!" Phil said with disdain. "This is the part where Dr. Choctopus infuses the Milk with Syrupy radiation!"

"I don't care!" Gina shouted, "Could you just pay attention?" Her hand moved away as Phil tried to snatch at the remote. His brown eyes nearly went red with rage at this, as he grit his teeth. How dare she deny him access to the super hero thriller gone movie of the year! "As I was saying!" she started, loudly to ensure she had the boy's attention. "Soon, Noldin came to realize he had shot a little boy by mistake. The kid's crying snapped him back to the harshness of reality, and he vowed never to kill again."

"But he did, didn't he?" came a new voice from the doorway. With rings in his face, and a voice all too familiar, albeit a bit timid this time around, here was Jimmy... the murderous Jimmy. "That's the problem with killing. It doesn't matter if you murder under the privilege of war or as a criminal, you are still a murderer." He paused at this, his voice so scared and timid, as though he was going to break into a million bloody pieces at a simple tap. "The worst part is, you're forever haunted by those you kill."

Phil was tense, but remained as calm as he could for now. He didn't want the police to be back so soon, and didn't want to be kicked out of the Pokemon Center. He didn't want to be kicked out, and forced to live on the streets of a city that maybe never even slept. Instead, he resorted to simply gripping the edge of the couch in order to help relieve his stress. "Like you know anything about being guilty!" Phil spat, his body restraining itself in order to resist lashing out and resist giving in to his short temper. He stood up, and stamped the ground with his foot.

"Phil!" yelled Gina.

"I need to make a phone call!" he stated, his voice determined, and on the verge of screaming bloody murderer. "I also need to get away from both of you!"

At that, he yelled. He yelled as loud as a ferocious lion, attempting to drive the anger out of his system faster than it could come back to him. It was to no avail. The only way would to be far, far away from Jimmy. As he stamped off, roaring like a feral wolf every few paces, Jimmy decided to sit down. He needed to talk to Gina.

His first question, was perhaps the most obvious question that the lady would have ever thought of. "Why? Tell me please!" he was practically begging. "Why me?"

Gina sighed at this. Jimmy was no bad guy. She could tell that this man was seriously scarred for life. Suffice to say, Jimmy was a murderer... there was no doubt about that. He had almost killed her too, but the key word there is almost. She was after all, still alive, and truly, that's all that really mattered to her. "You're a good person, Jimmy." she said simply, after taking a second to carefully consider those words.

He shook his pierced face vigorously in disagreement. "No..." he replied in a solemn tone. "Gina! I killed people and Pokemon alike! For God's sake, throw me in jail already!" He felt so pitiful, and unselfish in his moment of weakness. The memories of the dead were still fresh on his memory, and it was causing him to quiver almost uncontrollably.

The green haired girl smiled weakly. "No!" she declared. "You are worthy of redemption, and may be able to rise above this!"

Jimmy blinked a few times before he could muster a response. "Do... do you really... do you honestly think so?" He wasn't sure he trusted her just yet. After all, Phillip may have been right this whole time. "What reason do you have to waste time on me?"

Gina sighed, taking the broken man's hand in her own. It trembled so rapidly and so fearfully in her grasp that it almost made her voice sound a bit distorted, as though by vibration. "Well, I know what it's like to have an abusive parent."

This caught Jimmy's attention. "You..." he blinked, almost speechless with great sorrow and regret. "You do?"

Gina nodded. "My father is an alcoholic." she stated firmly, "He is abusive when drunk, which he often is. I know what it's like to have bad a parent." She said it brief. She really didn't want to go too in-depth about it. Not that there was ever any physical abuse upon her. Far from it, it was the girl's mother who suffered, the abusiveness. "It's even worse when you watch your mother be on the receiving end." she paused with a deep, depressed exhalation. "That is why I am going on this Pokemon journey. My mother suggested for my own safety that I get away." After a few seconds of pause, she added swiftly, "I do, of course, know about Pokemon too, so that's no big deal."

The ex-psycho nodded. "I see." he replied, with extreme caution. Everything had him on edge at the moment, from the simple sound of the ticking clock on the wall, which indicated that the time was now Seven at night, to the angry foot stamping of Phillip Molson. Jimmy remained silent for a few seconds, before his shame and misery continued. "So, when should I apologize to Phil, if ever?"

Gina shrugged. "I honestly have no idea. Sara always said he was a bit weird, but he seems to have many mood swings... all of them angry. I'd just stay as far away from him as possible..." she paused, considering things for a moment before swiftly adding more. "It's not like he really has the capability of hurting you, but still..."

Jimmy nodded again. He was afraid to disagree with anything she said. It was as though she was a dictator who had absolute rule, and absolute say of what is and what goes. "I understand." His subservience was as well hidden as he could muster. "Gina, do you hate me?" He asked, trying to sound as brave as he possibly could.

The girl did not know how to reply to this. She wasn't expecting such a blunt question right yet. After all... "Jimmy, I hardly even know you," she sighed, his hand unclasping with hers in order to rest his drooping head. "Lighten up a bit. You have your life, and your freedom."

Jimmy's eyes sternly focused upon the girl at that. "I may be alive, but because of me, you can find some gone and broken families are the result." He paused, his misery seemed to know no bounds. "As for freedom..." he began, wondering how he should word this carefully. "No, you wouldn't understand unless you lived the with the heavy guilt, weighing on your shoulders, and caving in on your mind! If only it were physical pain, it would be much more tolerable."

While Gina chatted with the ring faced man, Phillip sighed as he approached the camera phones, thankfully a few rooms away. As the name implied, it was a phone with access to a camera, which just so happened to be on what looked like a computer screen. In there, the skinny red headed Viking was busy making a call.

"It was a vaste of my time, ya! Completely and utterly useless!" the accented man yelled into the phone, as a man bald with dark skin and a thick green beard nodded at the other end. As He heard Phil enter, he swiftly gasped. "I had better go. See ya later!"

Phil glanced at the foreigner with confusion. He really didn't care if this guy was Santa in disguise, and into a freaky choice of brick red hair dye. With an audible, and somewhat accidental grunt, Phil took a seat at the phone. He didn't really care that the room had light blue walls, or that it was rather confined with only three phones. One had to wonder though about a big city like this. Then again, this place was relatively empty as it stood, so why should Phil have even cared one way or another? Besides, there were more important questions on his mind than how many idiots it would take to screw up a pay phone, even though the phones, just the same as the healing services, were absolutely free at a Pokemon Center.

"Uh, hallo there!" said the Viking man in a nervous, and subdued tone.

Phil mumbled for a second, but decided not to be a total jerk to everyone, and replied. "Yea, hi!" he replied, only a meager shred of enthusiasm in his voice. "You are... uh, Derrick, right?" he asked, not giving a rattata's rear-end either way.

"Verick." the Norseman corrected. "You are Phil, ya?"

"Ya." Phil replied in almost a mocking tone. At that, he grabbed for the phone, and dialed the number he knew to call. On the other end, he was greeted by the black hair and mustache of none other than Mr. Brenetmos.

"Hello." Mr. Brenetmos began, almost cheerily, before looking at the screen to see Phillip. "Ah..." he stated, pausing in hesitation. "So is it..."

"It's fine!" Phil snapped. "My Totodile is just fine. It turns out..." he sighed deeply and with great regret. "It turns out that, well, I was wrong... as always!" he added to swifly. "Sorry if I doubted you..."

The scientist shrugged his shoulders with indifferent. "Eh, no big deal, I suppose if everything is alright." The man chuckled at that. "Have you caught any more Pokemon?"

"Yea!" He nodded. "I caught a spider. I don't know what it's called though."

Brenetmos stared blankly at Phil, as though his face suddenly was melting off in a spiral motion that defied the laws of gravity. "It's probably either a Spinarak, or a Wideows, but why don't you check your Pokedex?"

This caught Phil by surprise. "Poke..." he glared at the screen, and saw Mr. Brenetmos holding a small computerized object in his hand. "I believe you forgot this." he stated, "I seriously believed you would too, ironically enough."

"Great!" Phil sighed. "Looks like I need to run back home from Feltinburg. Great!"

Mr. Brenetmos sighed. "No, that won't be necessary." the mustachioed man stated. "I'll simply send it over in a Pokeball."

"Great!" Phil stated as his eyes shifted from left to right. "Uh, can I ask a question about raising Pokemon?"

The professor sighed. "I don't see why not." As he spoke, he pushed a few buttons, as he held a Pokeball in his right hand. "You should send the ball back to me afterwards, or it may accidentally count towards your Pokemon total." He sighed. "Now, what was your question?"

Phil sighed as he began. "How do I get Pokemon to attack?" he asked quite bluntly. Perhaps, at that, a bit too bluntly.

"You tell it to attack." The scientific man replied. "You tell it which attack you want it to use." The professor paused for a second before coming up with an end-all answer. "The Pokedex should be able to help you."

"Good!" replied the Molson boy. "Maybe now they'll be better slaves!" He chuckled, before realizing what he had just said. "Oh crap!" he blurted. "I did NOT say that out loud." he said in denial! "I definitely did NOT say that out loud!"

"Oh why do I even bother?" sighed Brenetmos. "Phillip. Your Pokemon are supposed to be your friends, not your servants."

"They are?" Phil asked confusedly. "But... I've never had many friends before."

"I know!" Mr. Brenetmos snapped. "You're a miserable person who needs to get a life! Fortunately for you, Pokemon are not too difficult to befriend. You simply need to show some love and trust. Also, don't abuse your Pokemon verbally or physically, if you know what's good for you or your Pokemon." Brenetmos at that 'hmphed', and continued to speak, his tone almost snobbish, as if he knew something. "You probably have already threatened their lives a few times. How did you catch a Spinarak when you didn't even know how to fight properly?"

"I kicked it into a tree when it bit my hand." Phil replied, and what scared Brenetmos was how serious Phil sounded. "After that, I remembered that I could throw a Pokeball at it."

"I'm frightened by your honesty, Phillip, I really am!" Mr. Brenetmos sighed. "You should be receiving your Pokedex any second now." As he said that, sure enough, no longer than a second later, a strange flash of white light startled the Molson boy, and when it dissipated, there was a Pokeball in its white and red goodness.

Phil snatched it from the small cup holder shaped holding unit it sat in, and swiftly opened the ball. From within, the same mechanical encyclopedia that he had just seen on the screen was now in Phil's hands. "Thanks!"

All this time, the red haired Viking had been watching, and dare it be said, he was eavesdropping on Phil's conversation. "You are a Pokemon trainer?" he asked, a hint nervousness evident in his quiet tone.

Phil nodded, albeit, his tone afterwards was not friendly. "Yes I am, and I'll thank you to not to butt in on my conversations."

"You vere yelling rather loudly." the accented teen noted. "I will let you complete your call however uninterrupted if that is what you vish."

With a pompous 'hmph', Phil turned to look back at the phone screen. "Look, I may not want to do this long and probably boring journey, but I think I kind of need to." Phil sighed. "For Sara..." he trailed, as he grit his teeth very tightly. "Who's murderer is currently getting all buddy-buddy on Gina! I will rip that bastard to pieces!"

"Gina's there?" Brenetmos asked curiously. "Mind if I ask that you put her on?"

"I suppose so... but maybe you should invite my father over, just in case the murderer walks in too."

"Are you talking about me behind my back?" It was Gina, whose tone depicted neither sadness or joy, and she was standing at the doorway. Suffice to say, the small blue walled room didn't have a door, but it was still a doorway, since a door would fit in the spot right nicely.

Regardless of interior decoration, Phil was startled ever slightly at her voice. "How did you do that?"

"Phillip, your voice is loud and obnoxious! You would wake a dead man even if he was deaf and eight thousand miles away!"

"That was mean." Phil stated in a neutral tone. "I'm not that loud."

"No, she's right." This time, it was Jimmy. The ring faced murderer had made himself known. "We could hear you quite clearly from the other room."

"Shut up murderer!" Phil snapped harshly at Jimmy, snarling at the end for good measure. He looked back at Brenetmos on the screen. "See the ugly guy who just walked in?" Phil asked, pointing at none other than the ex-psycho.

Brenetmos said nothing. His jaw dropped at this, and he almost looked as though he'd cry a mighty river. It took a few seconds, but he finally spoke. "He... he killed..." He was trying to ask a question, but he seemed to be choking on his own words.

"Yes. This creep, Jimmy, killed Sara, and attempted to kill Gina as well. Yet she travels with him as though he were her best friend." Phillip explained, spiteful undertones rolled off of every decibel that emanated from his voice box as they formed a poisonous sense of pure, unadulterated hatred. "Do you understand now, Mr. Brenetmos? Do you understand the anger that boils in the darkest pit of my heart and stomach. Can you feel the hatred sweat off your head, only to bathe the rest of your body in it as it drips to the floor?"

Gina rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama queen. You're never going to let this go!"

"Never!" Phil yelled in response. "I will haunt you till the day you die, Jimmy! When the time comes, I will kill you!"

"Is that so, son?" said a loud, new voice from the other side of the phone. "I thought I told you that killing isn't the answer."

Phil's eyes widened. "Dad!" he exclaimed in shock, as he pointed at Jimmy. "This jerk, here... he killed Sara."

Jimmy's head, this whole time, was downtrodden and filled with regret. He may have been on the verge of tears as well. The fact remained, that he couldn't bring himself to look eye-to-eye the father of an innocent he had killed. The shame and the guilt were far too much. "Um, h... hi." he said, quivering in shame.

Phil father eyed the man carefully. "Is he the real one?" Richard Molson was almost shocked to be looking into the face of a murderer, albeit through a strange computer screen, but nonetheless, he was looking at the murderer of his daughter.

"May I kill him dad?" Phil asked, as though his father was a higher authority than the law.

"Of course you could." replied his father, his sarcasm fell on Phil's deaf ears though, so he quickly decided to add a few more words. "If you don't want me to call you son any more. I've been listening in on the conversation almost this whole time."

"You have?" Phil asked, his skin almost going pale in shock and fear. "You heard..."

"Yes, you are quite abusive, son. I honestly had no idea, and I do not like it." His father stated sternly.

"Why are you even here, dad?" Phil asked in confusion. "After all, you just want to disown me anyway, right?" This was starting to feel unnerving for the Molson boy, having to pour his soul to everyone in the phone room. It suddenly felt very closed in.

"No son." The boy's father replied with a saddened exhalation. "I am doing all this because I love you."

Those words rang in Gina's ears, and brought a tear to her eye. Damn Phil for being so spoiled as to have two loving parents. Damn him for being a spoiled brat who had parents who were there for him. Damn Phil for having the audacity to even think that he had such a miserable life. The green haired girl swiftly exited through the doorless doorway, a single tear wetting the floor as she did.

Phillip, of course, noticed her leave, but not her crying, "Eh, that girl's smart enough." Phil grinned. "Do you mind?" He said to Verick, "This is a private conversation." To Jimmy, he simply hissed like an angry cat or snake.

"I think the murderer should stay." stated Richard. "I would like to talk to him too."

"Ya!" Verick nodded. "I vill leave ya all privacy." At that, Verick was gone. Phil and the now broken Jimmy were all that remained.

"Oh goodie!" shouted Phil, failing to speak with a false sense of enjoyment. He simply sounded moody.


	19. A Series of Misfortunate Suspense

1Well, thanks to getting a review, I felt an urge to keep going! Chapter ahoy!

**Dust to Deceit**

_If mankind were meant to remain on earth forever, then the gods, should they truly exist, should never have given us such expansive minds! We would never have discovered the truth to our past and the gateway to the future! THAT, is the objective we seek! The future!_

- **Arthur Landon, Leader of the Orbital Occult**

**Chapter 13: A Series of Misfortunate Suspense**

"I understand." replied Richard Molson with a curt nod. He had just stomached the fortunately left undetailed story of Jimmy's sad childhood, his abusive mother, and the strange urge for security through power and a lack of fear which brought about his insanity. "You suffer greatly, Jimmy, and feel you do not deserve to a second chance at life."

"He didn't even deserve a first chance, dad!" Phil snarled. "By the way, tell Mr. B to stop sniveling and crying. It's not very becoming of an idiot like him!"

The scary thing was, that in spite of Phil's spite, what he was saying was rather true. Mr. Brenetmos was almost in tears, showing a strange sensitive side that pretty much made Phil think even lower of he scientist who betrayed him, with the totodile he had been given. Now, the blue croc was far from a murderer and was perhaps the only trustworthy companion that the Molson boy even had. Still, it was the principal of the matter that brought out the worst in Phillip when it came to the subject, but then again, everything seemed to bring out the worst in him at this point in time.

"Phil. Have you listened to his tone, and his words?" the boy's father asked. "He has no parents of his own. He sounds as though he his going to keel over in shame and never get back up."

"That can be arranged!" the angered teen shouted with a grin. Yes, he would have loved nothing more than to arrange it, and follow through.

With a sigh, Phil's father continued. "If he's a Jimmy, and the appearance and effeminate voice cannot lie, then why hasn't he even said 'WHEE!' yet?" His father asked, his impression of the trademark Jimmy tone was frighteningly accurate, much to Phil's chagrin.

"Are you insane?" He asked at the top of his lungs as he eyed the broken Jimmy. "I think it's an improvement! The lack of a laughter that sounds like a potheads, and that infernal 'WHEE!' of his!" He paused for a second to catch his breath. "Why I'd love nothing more than to never meet another Jimmy as long as I live! If I did, I'd have to go on... on a 'Jimicide.' Let's call it that, shall we?"

"You know son..." Jimmy's father said with a sigh. "I give up. I just... well, I frankly think there isn't any hope for you. After all these years of being such a loner, and a hateful individual, I have to ask myself where I went wrong as a father."

"You did fine." Phil stated, surprisingly calm. "But this rat bastard did something unspeakably evil! He must die!"

"You know Phillip." said Mr. Brenetmos, who had swallowed his pride, and was done trying to cry. "That line about killing is getting really old, and really fast at that. Do you think you could at least come up with some more original lines?"

This sounded like a question that was straight out of left field, or at the very least, your other left! "Uh, what's wrong with you?" he asked Mr. Brenetmos. "You think this is some kind of performance?" he asked snidely. "Well, do you think this is all just an act?"

"Yes I do." he replied humbly. "You are, after all, an actor wannabe, and I'll be quite frank that your acting skills, well, suck big time balls!" He stated it quite firmly with much assertion. He was as serious as could be, and the scary thing was that Phil could tell that he meant it. The scary thing was, that Mr. B was absolutely correct about this being a performance of sorts.

"Fine!" Phil snapped angrily. "Think what you wish of my talents." he said neutrally. "I'll have more than enough loyal fans when I get to the top, you'll see! Once people realize how good I am, they will flock to me! If only can garner their attention." He stated. He sounded oddly calm, as though he had completely shifted out of an angry shell that had consumed his soul, and then spit it out with an evil pudding to cover it up. As he realized this, he knew his guise was broken. "Ah, but that's for another day. I will do all I can to get myself a fan base when I'm big and worth being mentioned! Until then though, I will despise all actors who are more renown than I am."

"Are you through?" Brenetmos asked, a bit bored by Phil's speech (which, in his opinion, was performed poorly.) "I think it's about time to end this call. All these minutes are _not_ good for my phone bill."

"Wait!" shouted Jimmy. "Mr. Molson..." he began, to which the elder Molson nodded his head quickly. "I just wanted to say... thank you. I am in your debt though for what I did."

"No problem Jimmy." the man said calmly. "I can tell you meant what you said. You've had a rough life, and you deserve a chance. It may sound cliche of me to say it, but you're a good kid who fell on some very hard times." He smiled at the end, and waved at the phone. "See ya later, Jimmy, you too son!"

At that, the screen went blank, and only Jimmy and the has been actor Phil remained. "Fine!" Phil shouted at last, as the pressure of the silence had nearly made him insane. "I don't want to kill you yet. I still hate you though. Never forget that."

"I deserve it!" Jimmy replied in a calm nod. "You have every right to never, ever forgive me. What I did..."

"Save the speech!" Phil interrupted rudely. "I just have to say one thing." He said it slowly, and took a second for dramatic pause in between. "If you ever hurt Gina, I will leave you wishing for death!"

Jim's eyes narrowed. "I am a Jimmy!" he stated sternly. "We honor our promises as best we can. I promised Ms. Meshing I would defend her with my life, and she deserves it! Just don't tell her that I'm gonna try earning badges as well, would you?" He sounded serious when he said this.

"Ok..." Phil nodded, still holding his grudge against his sister's killer. Still, a simple question lingered in his mind. "Badges?" he asked curiously.

"You don't know?" the ex-psycho asked, almost surprised. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised with your lack of battling skills."

Phil grunted at that. "You do know that my kindness only goes so far, right?" He almost figured he actually had any kindness to speak about. Not that he didn't, but it took a lot of searching and patience for one to truly know the nice Phillip.

"Well, your sister, may she rest in peace," the Jimmy began, "was probably going to take the Kertonmel league challenge." Jimmy paused there, as he realized that Phil's stare was quizzical. "That means she would go around Kertonmel and earn badges. These are gotten from the many gym leaders located at towns and cities throughout the country."

"How many of these gyms are there?" Phil asked. He was curious. Even if he had to get his info from the lowest life form in the universe, he would get answers. Answers he would need to conquer, and fulfill his sister's dream and whatever legacy she sought to attain. "You must tell me," he snapped, grabbing the ring faced man by the collar of his shirt.

"Calm down." Jimmy said in a calm manner as Phil released Jim's shirt collar from such a firm grasp. "There are over twenty gyms in Kertonmel, if I'm not mistaken. In order to make it to the Kertonmel Pokemon League, you need sixteen badges."

Phil nodded, as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So how does a madman like you know all of this anyway?" Phil sighed as he asked this. He was beginning to feel very torn between his own emotions. How could a murderous jerk like Jimmy be so easy to talk to, yet so difficult for Phil to muster the strength to strangle him? The preposterousness of the idea did not settle well with him. "No, wait!" Phil interrupted, before the ex-madman could explain. "Just don't tell me, I think it'll be better off if I don't know." His voice sounded harsh, as though his moods were a pendulum, swinging to and from anger. It certainly was the pits, that was assured. "By the way..." he added, grinning slightly. "If our paths should cross after tomorrow, I might just try and kill you again." Jimmy eyed him suspiciously, as though he had a snake biting into his crotch. "This isn't a joke... well, see ya!"

At that, Phil stomped off, headed back to the TV, in hopes that maybe he could catch more of the Unsoggable Milk, especially if it were the part where he had to team up with the Green Lanturn. This left Jimmy all alone. It was something the ring faced man was used to at this point in his life. Without any love from his own mother, and no father to look up to, all he ever had was his older brother. Now he would be traveling with Gina, and thus, would be feeling a whole new experience of strange new feelings. Love, and friendship... both were not very well known, but he did know that appeasement would no doubt make Gina more willing to be his friend, and he really felt he could use some friends at this point in his sad life.

With the depressing thought in his mind, he decided he would go for a walk. He needed something to relieve the stress, and the depression from his mind. He figured that his best source of advice would be none other than his older half-brother. Yet the sense of calm that now pervaded over the Pokemon Center, the chaos of the earlier times had come and gone. Now, all that was left to do was to wait for tomorrow, where he'd get the chance to go out into the world with his sanity still intact.

As Jimmy sighed in a mix of both relief and sadness, Gina sat in the Pokemon Center's bedrooms, depressed on the bed she'd use for the night. Not that she was concerned about sharing with a few males. After all, it wasn't like a Pokemon trainer was a clean job. One who traveled as lightly as trainer had to probably did not carry spare clothes, nor did the long journey leave much time for shower breaks. Gina didn't mind the fact that she'd have to smell like a swinub all that much. She'd have gladly shaved her head and sawed off her own nose to escape the misery of home.

The green haired girl was depressed, and angry at Phillip. She hated him and his whining. He was lucky to have a mother and a father who both loved him dearly, and to have had a sister as well. How dare he think he had the worst luck in the world when there were people who suffered worse in other countries that barely had enough to feed themselves. The mere thought of it made Gina hate him even more, as well as herself. She hated herself for a long time. She was probably deserving of lots of the pain and sadness she received at home. It should have been her instead of her mother... it was her fault for running away on this journey.

Time, strangely enough, seemed to hasten as people brooded over their personal problems, and before long, nighttime had arrived at last, and filling the bedroom in four of the ten available beds were the Psycho Jimmy, who sadly still snored in his sleep, and now seemed to be quivering and crying in his sleep, as well as Gina and Verick, who both seemed to sleep more soundly. Phillip however, was restless. His dreams were haunted by a strange vision. Five strange masks kept disturbing him in his sleep, and a loud chanting ensued.

**The Viral Storm of Souls and Hell! Blood and Chaos, Flames as well!**

It had scared him. He had been on the verge of death at gunpoint not even a day ago, yet now, Phil was terrified. He was too afraid to even think of going back to sleep... it was certainly going to be a long night without the time passing enjoyment of sleep, or people to listen to his bitching. It was almost unfair, as though he felt he hadn't suffered enough that day. With a quiet stride, the loud whiner tiptoed out of the room as though he were a stealth ninja, and made his way back to the TV. The only question was... what would be on at this time of night? There was of course 1337 TV's fabled 'Teeh Mn, and teh R0XX0rs 0f teh Un1v3r$3!' Yes, Teeh Mn was indeed a fun show to watch about how Teeh Mn had teh pwnz0r! Still... Phillip was not in the mood for teh r0XX0r3$t network out there. He needed something... fulfilling. The idea came to him swiftly as he encroached upon the main room with the TV. He would watch 'Pokebattles four eleven!' The channel was, almost ironically channel four twelve. He figured he may as well learn something about how the heck he was supposed to battle with Pokemon.

It seemed the TV was already occupied however... and by none other than Chef Jimmy. "Oh..." Phil stated quietly as he arrived in the room. "You're watching something, I take it."

"Eh?" asked the chef, as he yawned slightly. "Well, you having trouble sleeping?" he asked, "Or are you maybe... perhaps an insomniac like I am?"

These words caught the Molson boy off guard. "You? You have trouble sleeping?"

Jimmy almost went into his family trademarked laugh, but he was used to keeping it quiet at night after almost two years of sleep deprivation. In all that time, perhaps the most he had gotten was fifty hours of sleep, and it was painful to live with the lack. To be unable to enjoy the wonderful, yet temporal escape from reality, where the mind runs rampant in strange dreams that often made no sense, and really only occurred during the few hours before one actually awoke. The feeling was wonderful... and the chef missed it, and yearned for it dearly. "No, I simply can't sleep. There's a painful yet obvious difference."

"Right..." replied Phil in a most pompous tone. "I don't really care, to be honest. By the way, you can cook a good bratwurst." He looked at the TV, and oh so suddenly forgot to acknowledge that the chef was a person, intentionally. "What are you watching?" He asked, as he saw a strange silver creature with two large horns and a dark grey underbelly sat in front of a boiling pot.

"It's the Aggron Chef!" said Jimmy. "Did you want to watch something else?"

"Yea, the battle channel!" Phil replied. "I figure I should, in order to learn how I'm supposed to handle Pokemon and stuff."

Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. "Well, if you want to learn a bit, I could tell you a few things. It'd be nice if it were daytime so I could explain with your Pokemon as well... I guess we could go by what you see on the show, and I'll help you out."

Phil grinned. "Great. I could use all the help I could get, now that Gina has decided to abandon me." He said it in such a carefree tone. He wanted to draw some sympathy from he murderer's brother, yet he didn't want it to be so obvious. Before the chef could even speak out against this, Phil spoke again. "Ah, let's just watch, shall we?"

As he channel changed, the screen showed two creatures staring at one another angrily. One appeared to be a large orange beast with small wings that didn't seem quite the right size to support its body enough to keep it airborne, yet all the same, the creature seemed to take to the air as if it were nothing. At the other edge of the field was a purple snake with what appeared to be a large flat head, colorful with blacks, reds and yellows. Atop that, there was another head, which Phil assumed was a real head, as it showed some blinking eyes, and a fang filled mouth. The TV spoke, 'It looks like Ralpho's Arbok is going up against Kail's Dragonite.'

"That Arbok has to be the winner." Phil chuckled. "I mean, the thing can fly, and looks huge compared to that little dragonite."

Jimmy giggled like a little schoolgirl at that. "Heh, You're almost funny when you're not in a stupid rage." He stated, before starting to explain. "The Dragonite is the flying one... but don't be so sure that it's assured to win. Just because it is larger and physically stronger."

"That sounds like a sure win to me if it's bigger and stronger than the little snake there." Phil replied with a shrug. After all, wasn't a Pokemon all about power and speed? Was it not important to beat your foe with overpowering might?

Jimmy shook his head. In the dark of the room, Phil only saw it vaguely enough. "You've got much to learn, but I'm sure you'll catch on soon enough. An important part of training is trust between a trainer and their Pokemon, and strategy is another aspect... eh, lets just watch, shall we?"

Phil grunted, as he watched the screen. 'Arbok!' shouted a manly voice of a person not seen on the screen. 'Use screech!' To this command, the snake unleashed a high pitched shout at the top of its serpentine lungs.

'Dragonite!' yelled another masculine voice, this one a bit more raspy, and sounding a bit lisped. 'Thart thith battle with Body Thlam!' At that, the dragon dove to the snake at great speed, only to be incapacitated by the loudness of the snake's shriek. As it did, it shivered slightly, and put its hands to its ears. 'Come on, ignore that thound!' yelled he lisped voice. 'Oh thit!' he yelled, his voice was of course, uncensored here, even though his word was exactly just one letter too far to become a fecal swear word. Indeed, uncensored swearing on television was a blessing to the land of Kertonmel... and many young men with hormones were hoping to remove censorship from nudity as well with a governmental appeal.

'Now's your chance Arbok!' said a voice from off the screen. 'Get it with Poison Fang! Hurry!' At that command, the snake lunged, its mouth opened widely to reveal a set of sharp, razor sharp fangs that dripped a threateningly fatal liquid. 'Get it now!' He commanded, and at that, the snake latched onto the dragon's leg, and bit into its knee with a sickening snap of its stretchy snake jaws. With a loud yelp of pain, the dragon flailed about.

'Counter!' yelled the lisped man as swiftly as the snake's teeth snuck into his dragon's leg. The beast began to almost glow a faint yellow for a second, only to have that force suddenly course through the snake's body and wrack it with pain.

"What the heck just happened?" Phil asked. "That dragon didn't DO anything except glow."

Jimmy smiled. "Glowing is more than enough. Counter simply lashes back against an attack used against it right then and there, and cause twice as much pain as it receives from the attacker." His explanation didn't really help Phil all that much, but Phil shrugged his shoulders anyway, pretending to have a full understanding of what he had just been told.

At that, the snake released its grasp from the dragon's leg, and fell to the ground. It was hardly done fighting though, rest assured. The dragon also wasn't looking so wonderful either, with the gash in its leg. It was looking a bit dizzy too, which was strange for something as simple as a small gash. It wasn't even at a fatal location on the reptile's body, unless Dragonites had their hearts in their knees. 'Arbok, use Sludge Bomb!' The order was given, enticing the snake's mouth to open widely. As it did, a strange liquid substance formed in its mouth. It looked repulsive, with its sickly green-yellow shade, and its seemingly unstable formation. It looked as though it were volatile enough to explode.

'Dodge it Dragonite!' spoke the lisped man. It was no use though. Even as th dragon tried to take to the skies to avoid the sludgy mess, it was hit in its underbelly at full force. As he repulsive sphere struck, it exploded into a disgusting mess, as acid burned into the creature's skin. It yelped in pain as it fell backwards, weak and tired. It landed on the floor with a thud, on its backside, as it breathed up a smoggy cloud of poison. It appeared that the weaker lizard had won.

Phil was amazed. These trainers seemed so skilled and knowledgeable. It made him doubt he'd ever be able to keep up with such power, should he truly go through with this journey. "How can a simple snake beat a superior dragon?" Phil asked. "I guess I can be unstoppable too if I catch an Arbok."

Jimmy smiled. "You'll understand in due time, Phil. It's all about how well the trainer and his Pokemon trust each other's skills. Predicting your opponent is important as well."

Phil grunted, and shrugged his shoulders, yawning as he did. Before he knew it, in what literally felt like a blink of an eye, the room was brighter, and the city around seemed to be teeming with the hustle and bustle of life once more. The funny thing was, he didn't remember dreaming. "Huh?" he asked, as he saw Gina, and both Jimmies standing over him as he lay on his back. "What are you all staring at?" he snapped suddenly.

"You, obviously." Gina replied. "You should wake up before you miss breakfast."

"Oh..." Phil replied, "of course." He wasn't truly very hungry, but he figured he would probably need the energy for the long, lonely road. "So... where should I go?" the boy asked curiously. "I mean, I need to find the gym. Where's the town's gym?" he asked.

The chef shook his head. "There isn't one. You'll have to go to either Lombta to the west through the forests, or Kayma, to the Northeast, and in this city's suburbs. There's also Qashune to the south east, also through forests, and a few cliffs... but that's somewhat farther away."

Gina eyed Phil carefully. "Wherever you go, I'm not going. Remember that." She reminded him just how much she wanted to avoid him, and avoid knowing he even existed.

"Fine then!" he replied rudely. "I'm going to Lombta!" he stated firmly, "and I don't need a useless bitch like you!" he added harshly. "Go on and travel with your murderer!"

At this, Verick walked up to Phil. The redhead spoke up nervously. "Vait!" he stated. "Jyou're going to Lombta, jya? I have to go there too... vould it be alright if I were to go vith you?"

"Yea!" Phil stated with a nod, "Yea Verick. I think that'd be dandy of you! I could enjoy your intelligent company much more than that little wuss any day!" He grinned as he spoke in a spiteful tone, and held his hand out to Verick. The Viking stared at it for a second, scared. "Well... are you going to shake my hand or not?"

"Oh, yea! I vill." He replied, as he grasped the boy's hand in his own, giving him a hearty handshake of friendship. "I appreciate this. It vould be safer than if I were to be going at it alone."

After a nice breakfast of waffles, provided by... who else? Why, chef Jimmy of course. After eating waffles, the two traveling groups went on their way. At long last, after what had felt like an eternity and a half, Phil was free from the nightmare that was yesterday. Finally, Phil, and Gina were on their quest at long last.

Phil smiled as he reached the forest at the edge of the city. It was the best way to go, according to the older Jimmy. Rather than for Phil to go through he town, he and Verick would go around it. "Ugh..." he sighed as he walked up the forest pathway. "I almost feel like I'm headed back to Hallsburg on this path... I wanna stay AWAY from home right about now."

Verick shrugged. "Vhy don't you capture some Pokemon, if jyou are a trainer, ya?"

"Ya!" Phil replied in a mocking tone. "I think I will." He grinned as he glanced about the forest. The sight of large grass, tall trees, and colorful flowers of reds, and yellows reminded him of peace and tranquility. "Doesn't this all make you want to puke?" he asked in a relaxed tone, and an evil smile on his face.

"No, it does not." Verick replied. In spite of his manifest destiny that told his astronomer instincts 'Go Up, Young Man,' Verick enjoyed the soothing tranquility and warmth of the forest... it was after all, nature's bread basket of bountiful enjoyment... or something like that.

Phil grinned as he heard a rustle from a nearby bush. "Hah!" he laughed, "Looks like I have my first catch on the road to my sister's destiny." he grinned. "Come out, little slave! Face me!"

The rustle began to die down, and out from the tall shrubbery, leapt a vision of purple. This purple seemed to be small, and vaguely familiar to Phil. Finally! it shouted in a language Phil did not understand. It was eager to be away from the forest... it had found a human at last!


	20. A Lavendar Hair Experience

Having new readers makes me happy. I know this story gets updated more frequently at other locations, but do no worry, I haven't forgotten the FF network. Don't forget to review!

**Dust to Deceit**

_If it bleeds, it can be killed, or used to entertain. If it cries, it can be silenced forever, or become a symphony of nirvana. If it begs for death... well, don't let it get what it wants, or else you wouldn't be a cold-hearted bastid... and I... well, I'm a prick. It feels good to be rotten!_  
-Spookoni, A Lesson in Art of Pain and Torture

**Chapter 15 - A Lavender Hair Experience**

'Okay...' Gina said to herself, her heart pounding rapidly at the scenario set before her. 'This is my first battle ever with Bulbasaur, and is simply my first ever battle!' She grimaced in pain. 'I'm not winning this, especially with Pidgey's flying advantage.' "Tackle!"she yelled, giving the command to start out as simply as possible.

To the command of its trainer, the Bulbasaur took off as fast as its somewhat ungainly legs could take it. Its feet splashed through a puddle of water, as it sprung up off of the ground, in order to collide violently against the flying beast.

The lavender haired male, Dame, however, smiled with a shrug. "Wing Attack." These two simple words were spoken with great nonchalance, as he knew he had the upper hand here. It was, in his mind, almost disappointment. After all, Dame didn't like his victories to be too easy. Regardless of the easiness, the Pidgey did as it was told with a smile. Its wings slammed forcefully into the bulbed dinosaur, and sent it back to the ground in pain. As the dinosaur looked back up, the bird stuck its tongue out at the bulbasaur in a spitefully cruel manner.

Read 'em and weep, little boy! chirped the bird in a harsh, and spitefully cruel tone. You don't stand a chance! The humans, of course, could not understand a word of this.

As the Bulbasaur grit its teeth, Gina spoke again. "Keep your distance." Gina stated. "Use Razor Leaf!" To word, the green beast's bulb opened slightly, allowing for green crescents to escape from within. Moving and spinning fast, the green crescent looked as though it could cut the head off of a man if it were angled right. Yet, there were more crescents, rapidly coming into existence, and before long, there were at least twenty headed towards the bird.

Still, the lavender haired man remained fairly calm. "Pidgey, blow it away with Gust." His shoulders shrugged slightly as he said these words. To his words, the brown bird flapped its wings rapidly, creating a whirling vortex of air, which swept the leafy blades into its swirling fury. With the wind going against them, the leaves blew in the other direction, but no longer were they spinning like a shuriken, or shaped like the crescent moon. Now, they were simply leaves with nothing to do, other than to slowly descend to the ground in a slow float. "Quick Attack!" the command went out as swiftly as the wind kicked up.

The Bulbasaur was not expecting sch swift shifts in attacks, and was caught off guard. In a swift motion, the bulbed creature was slammed by the fierce underbelly of its opponent. You suck coconuts. Stated the bird as it perched upon the floor in a haughty sense of victory. With a lift of its left talon, it proceeded to flip off the teal dinosaur for the second time.

"Is that Pidgey flipping the bird?" asked Jimmy.

Dame shrugged, as he moved a small strand of his lavender hair. "Looks like it, ursaring." He chuckled lightly.

"Ursaring?" asked Jimmy, confused more than anything else. "I do hope that wasn't an insult, because if it was, that was the lamest I've ever heard." After all, he had been called murderer, scumbag, schmuck, tard, and child. While all of them were truths instead of just teasing, they hurt a hell of a lot more than being made fun of for the piercings on his face.

"My Pidgey is rough and tough, and has the attitude to back it up!" He grinned at the pokemon, as he completely ignored everything that Jimmy even said. "Isn't that right, girl?" All he got was a shrugging set of wings in response. "Hit it while its down with Gust." To that, a windy uprising from a set of flapping wings, just like before, sent a violent vortex of wind towards the downed grass beast. Though not tall, it certainly was wide.

Gina, nor her Bulbasaur, were ready to throw in the towel yet. "Jump it with Vine Whip!" she yelled. To this, the leafy creature was hurled into the air, all thanks to a set of vines that sprouted from the same place the crescent leaves were unleashed. Dodging the wind, Gina continued, noticing how close the bird and the dino truly were. "Tackle it." She commanded.

The Bulbasaur, suspended in the air by way of vine, began to wobble, yet it smiled slightly as it looked at the Pidgey. So... little boy, am I? he asked, slyly as the green beast flung itself at the bird as swiftly as it could. The results were not quite as Gina expected, but with a thick shoulder strike from the plant growing quadruped to the bird's underbelly, things suddenly seemed a bit more hopeful. With the small bird crashing to the ground, the green lizard laughed. Ha! I flipped the bird! The dinosaur grinned. Who's a little boy now, huh? Huh? It asked, its tone mocking as it stood over what appeared to be the unconscious body of a fallen bird.

To this, the lavender haired male sighed with disdain. "Alright, that's it! I'm done putzing around!" he stated more seriously. "Pidgey, give the little runt a quick attack." As swiftly as it had fallen, the bird flapped its wings, and swiftly slammed into the leafy beast before it could even see what was coming.

Gina was worried now. This was obviously a well trained Pidgey, much unlike the ones found almost everywhere you could possibly go in the open landscape. "Use Growl." she commanded.

To this, the dinosaur eyed the bird, as it trembled to get back to its feel from the recent attack, and pulled from its voice box the scariest roar it could muster. The result was a bit too adorable to be useful, and in the end, the lizard wound up sounding like an elderly woman at a ho-down, screaming at the very top of her lungs, but of course, it was twenty times less shrill, and twenty times younger in age. Regardless of grandma's screamin' good time, the growl did not have the terror inflicting effect it was meant to have.

The Pidgey laughed in response. How cute... it shrugged in disgust, as it loomed over the lizard, its towering effect only made possible by way of its avian flight.

"Wing attack!" commanded Dame, to which the Pidgey smirked behind its small, yet sharp beak, as it raised its left wing into the air above its head.

"Dodge it!" yelled Gina, causing the Bulbasaur to jump just as the wing chopped downwards to strike. This looked good for her now. Bulbasaur was in a position to strike with a very powerful attack. The question was, what attack would leave its mark and turn the tide of battle in her favor. What single attack could do such a wonderful thing as to yield the green haired girl the victory she needed so greatly? The answer was, quite simply, nothing at all. There was no technique that a Bulbasaur could possibly have at this stage of its life, especially without battle earned experiences to help it tap deep into its greatest potential to unlock powerful techniques beyond the comprehension of the average Joseph or Josephine. Bred  
In spite of all of this, Gina was not going to pass up this opportunity to attack. "Tackle!" she yelled. To which the Bulbasaur lunged at its foe, head first, and struck the bird in its back, taking them both to the ground. It was here that Gina had an idea. "Tie it up with Vine Whip!" she commanded with a sly undertone to her words.

The ring faced Jimmy did not like the looks of this. "What are you planning?" he asked with suspicion.

"Don't worry." she stated to Jimmy. "You'll be unharmed, Jimmy." She didn't even turn to face him. It was as though he was just not important at that point in time.

"I'm not talking about me, I..." he didn't get to finish his statement, for as the Bulbasaur wrapped its vines around the flying sass-squawker, Gina interrupted.

"Chuck it into the water!" she yelled, "Make sure NOT to let it up for fresh air."

Jimmy was shocked. "Gina... how could you even think such a thing?" Had the girl lost her mind? Was se spiraling down the same path that he himself had been on for years? No! It couldn't, and wouldn't be possible, not without abusiveness from a parental source.

"I realized something, just last night." Gina stated seriously, eyeing her Bulbasaur with an almost evil grin. "I figured out that I need to not let anyone push me around at all." she yelled with determination. She was obviously angry. "I'm tired of licking boots and putting up with abuse." She eyed her Bulbasaur, who had yet to put the battered bird into the stinky river. "What are you waiting for, sink it!" she demanded. To this, the reptilian beast hesitantly complied. After all, it was not going to betray its trainer, but at the same time, it did not want to commit murder.

"What are you think?" asked Dame, on the verge of panic. "Pidgey!" he yelled, calling out to his loyal winged beast. He looked as though he were about to cry. "No..." he stated, in terror. "Why..." he said, too horrified to make the word sound like a question. "How could you?"  
"I have to agree, Gina." Jimmy added with a nod. "What possessed you to even think such a despicable thought?" he asked.

Gina grinned, but her eyes widened. "I... I don't... have any I idea." she sounded as though she had been far, far away, perhaps as far as Mars. One thing was for certain though, "It... I had no idea."

The lavender haired male, meanwhile was crying. His eyes however, produced no tears. "Well now..." he grinned, "I think I'll end this charade." he smiled. "Pidgey, Mirror Move!" he yelled.

From beneath the murky green waters, it could not be seen too well what was happening, but before long, two vines extended from the waters and lashed at the grassy Pokemon, grappling it in a tight hold around its waist. To this, the grassy beast groaned in pain as it tried to slip itself out of the painful grip. "Now, toss it to the water, and stir up a storm." At that, the vines pulled the beast into the murky water where it was released from the vines of the winged mimic.

With the bulbasaur in the water, and its vine whip losing it grip upon its captor, the Pidgey sprung out of the waters as swiftly as it had gone in. A grin covered its face as it began to flap its wings.

"You... you faker!" yelled Gina with disgust. "You put the life of your own Pokemon at risk just to play a trick?" She was clearly repulsed by this freakish pretty boy, who had himself admitted to be ugly.

"Risk?" Dame asked slyly. "No, I was never in any real danger at all." he explained coyly. "I played with you, pretty girl, and want to play with you some more..." he grinned, "preferably naked, with Gumbo no longer alive. He should be dead like the dog he is."

Jimmy's eyes widened at that. Even though it was just a simple adjective with only one syllable of length, the words ricocheted throughout his skull like a spiked rubber ball that would not adhere to inertia or gravity, for its only law was chaos. "Dead..." he blurted in a whisper. "Yes, I should." he said louder, his eyes were wide, and lacking any true emotion. He was paralyzed with fear and memories. "Dead..." he repeated. "Dead, dead, dead." his repetition of the word did not cease. His hands trembled as he gripped them into a fist.

All the while, the bulbasaur was helpless within the sludge water as it thrashed about, its paws desperately trying to keep it above the surface while the pidgey above it flapped its wings at the speed of a humming bird to stir up a very nasty whirlpool and set of waves. Well, little boy... the pidgey cooed in her sassy tone, looks as though it stinks to be you, because you're all washed up! In your face, retard! At that, another wave, powered by the mighty flapping of avian wings crashed upon the weakening creature.

"Bulbasaur!" yelled Gina, scared for her life. "Get out of the water!" she yelled. It was of no use though, for after much splashing about, the sassy bird received a new order.  
"It's over!" grinned Dame. "End this now." his tone was calm yet again. "Use Wing Attack."

"Wait!" shouted Gina, her voice echoing about the sewers as she yelled. "I give up!" she yelled. "I give up!"

Dame shrugged. "Very well." It was almost disappointing to end a victory so prematurely, but a victory was still a victory, either way. "Pidgey, stop!" he commanded, causing the bird to come to a sudden halt, its wings only a nose hair away from striking its target. "As much as I like a good finisher, I will respect the lady's request." he grinned, winking at Gina.

"Don't patronize me!" she yelled, taking a deep breath. "I can't stand even looking at you! You're so annoying!" She was running out of intelligent words to vent her anger with. She was, after all, only eleven. "Most importantly, stop trying to get under my skin!"

Dame laughed, "No, I don't find skin removing too sexy, but the cloth upon the skin is a different story." he laughed. "Pidgey, return!" he stated quickly, recalling the sassy pigeon back to its red and white container. Dame's eyes almost looked pleading, but with a dab of irony his tongue licking against his lips as his eyes groped the green haired girl screamed lecherous pervert. "I don't ask for much, I only ask the way to Hallsburg. I am assuming you've been through there, and I am bit lost, mucking around for the correct place to exit."

Gina sighed, holding a Pokeball in her hand. With a click of a button, the drenched and battered Bulbasaur of hers was warped back into the oblivion that people could never venture into "I'm expected to help you..." she began, her tone oddly calm, "when I'd sooner toss you into the sludgy river below?"

Dame grinned, "You're as lost as I am." he stated with a relaxed grin. "You would rather hear me tell you the safest way to reach the suburbs, and find the gym, no doubt."

Gina was not taken aback at all. In fact, she was so bored with Dame, that she was looping her long, green hair through her finger as she spoke. "How did you know?"

The lavender haired male was thrilled to be asked a question. Finally, a chance to inflate his nonexistent ego was presented to him on a platter of even the most mundane of questions. The insignificance hardly mattered. Dame was going to leap at this opportunity like a starving pack of dogs, dying for just one singular morsel of meat juice that could be half the size of a silver dollar. "Well, with my keen intellect, I figured that you were a trainer, based on your sense of bravery to travel through the sewers than to waltz through crowds of angry city people." he hardly cared how pompous his voice sounded, nor did he care to admit his love for his own masculine voice, which clashed badly against his prettiness and pink hair. " As well, if you have a Bulbasaur, and if it is your first Pokemon, then truly, you have come from Mr. Brenetmos."

Gina sighed. "Yea, I suppose I did!" she sighed. "If you got that Corvolden as your first, then I guess you got it from Iptan Beatalgeust." As if his name wasn't peculiar enough, Iptan Beatelgeust, who much of Kertonmel referred to as 'the North Star of Kertonmel,' was a Pokemon researcher, but unlike Brenetmos, his focus was practically that of Pokemon tried and true, while Brenetmos was truly just a man of science. More specifically, a man of science with Pokemon to offer to people, wishing to prove their immunity to the death waiting around every corner, and upon every breadth of the vastness of time, space, and the lack of eternity.

In a nod to Gina's question, the lavender haired one replied. "Yes I am. Born and raised in Lipi." His grin did not fade. "So, will I be able to reach my younger cousin Galla, or will I need to screw the answer out of you?" In a way, his words were literal, as far as a dreamer's words could be, that is.

"Galla?" Gina asked, shocked. "You mean Galla Throxar?" She was almost impressed.

Dame grinned. "Yes, I take it you know her."

Gina nodded, with her mouth wide, before closing it to respond spitefully. "She's a dirty... rotten... !" she spat. "She was always making fun of me because of my bisexuality!" she yelled, her fists clenched in anger. How she would one day wish to smash that girl's head in. Especially for what she said about how Sara Molson deserved to die for being a ty dyke. Neither were true.

"Ah, you know my homophobic cousin, I take it." he smiled, a sigh of contentment escaped his lips. "Personally, I am thrilled by your tendencies for your own gender." He licked his lips, "It turns me the opposite of off."

Jimmy too felt the urge to comment on the matter. "You're a bisexual?" he asked, not even waiting for the girl to finish nodding her reply. "Cool!" he blurted out. "So, what's it like to taste both the sausage and its favorite hole?"

"Jimmy!" yelled Gina in embarrassment. "Of all people, you are in no position to patronize me for my sexuality. Besides, I have no idea."

Jimmy nodded. "Right, I apologize." He sighed, as his mind wandered.

"She is four years younger than me, and treats me like crap." he stated pausing to grin. "Yes, that would make me fifteen years old." he laughed at the afterthought, almost a giggle of sorts. "It's almost enticing, hmm, hmm?"

"No it's not." Gina replied honestly. "Now both of you, be quiet!" she snapped harshly, and got her wish for about half a minute of uneasiness. With a sigh of relaxed relief, the males present felt better.

Dame spoke up, breaking the dreadful silence. "Do ya think you can guide me to the manhole closest to Hallsburg?"

Gina nodded, and with a share of explanations, and directions, paths split up, much to Gina's relief, and Dame's dismay. "I'll see ya, Dame!" the green haired child stated with false enthusiasm, as she mumbled under her breath a few words unheard.

"I know you will." Dame grinned, before snapping his fingers loudly. "Oh yea! I almost forgot! I promised you a little gift."

"I lost, stupid!" Gina hissed.

"I said I'd give you a gift if you gave me a good fight, you never needed to win." he smirked, as he held out a metal sphere in his hand. By deduction from its red and white color, it was obviously a Pokeball. "I'd say we had a fun fight, sexy, even if I was distracted by your small assets."

Gina's response was a mix between a scowl and a sigh, which sounded pretty quirky, in the end. "Would you shut the fu..." she paused midway through her anger. "Small?" she asked, in a small voice. It hurt, to say the least. After all, nobody ever wanted to be thought of as inferior, no matter what way the supposed deficiency presented itself. "Small?" she asked again, her voice louder at this asking.

Dame giggled. "Yes. Don't feel offended though." he grinned. "I like small girls. You are short, small chested, and have a small yet sexy as well."

Gina grumbled as she accepted the gift Pokeball with a rude snatch. "Well... uh, thanks, I guess. But you better stop trying to make me feel miserable!"

Dame tilted his head before he replied with a false pout. "Miserable?" he laughed, "No, all I want is for you to be so happy you could scream! Preferably, with my name amongst the jumbled amounts of words. Granted, I wouldn't force you, because that's just mean... and it's illegal and less fun that way."

"Can we go now?" Jimmy asked impatiently. It was perhaps, rightfully so. After all, he had to listen to this jerk make sexual advances on his redemptive objective, and he was not going to let any harm come to her, whether it were physical, emotional, or anything else to be.

"Fine." sighed the lavender haired one with disdain. He didn't want to see the sexy rear end leave his vision. Still, he had little choice in the matter. "Gina, if it makes you feel any better, I will soil up in Galla's favorite shoes."

Gina's eyes went bright at this prospect. "I think there's some good in you yet, Dame." she smiled at this as well. "Well, good bye and good radiance." she said, with a wave of her hand, and a dash away from Dame, as fast as she possibly could.

"Riddance!" Jimmy hissed under his breath. "I think the word you mean is riddance."

With a shrug of her shoulders, Gina gave Jimmy the silent treatment for a few seconds, until she abruptly spoke up again to change the subject. "So, where is this death you noticed before?"

Jimmy sniffed at the air. "Hmm, it's gone now." he shrugged. "Maybe I'm just a bit high-strung. Who knows?" He sighed at the thought. "Can we just move on?" he asked, a hint of fear in his words.

"Sure, let's go." smiled the green haired small girl, as they continued their trek through the murk of the sewers.

As this odd couple trekked about, in a far and secluded section of the sewers, a strange, thin shape watched. It's face, which appeared to be its entire being, was a dark grey, with a hint of green, a gangrene. Disgusting, and with smoke coming out of the top of its head, which looked like the smokestacks of a factory, and seemed to spew just as much carbon as well. Other than the sickly grey and green that covered its face and the smokestacks on its head, there was not much else to describe this creature, except of course, for the fact that it had an aura that practically instilled fear in any who were to look at it.

This was, after all, no ordinary creature. This was a demon, and one of Kertonmel's legends. This mask was Poxoni, and how he loved the stinkpot of humanity, and eating the sludge out of the sewers. It was almost as tasty as living souls. Fresh, delectable, bright souls. Ah... the mask rumbled in its language. How fun it is to instill terror into the common passerby. It is a shame that devouring them for a blood-soul shower would give away my favorite hiding place. With that, the beasts long tongue extended from its mouth, as it took in a small amount of contaminated liquid, and savored its exotic flavor. This was, for the demon, anyway, truly a rotten paradise.


	21. Of Mice and Mend

I have neglected this place for a while. Anyway, seems that the Greater and Less than Arrows won't show up. I used them as captions for Pokemon speech, and Fanfiction net isn't allowing them. Smooth! Anyway, I have a whole big Pokedex for Kertonmel beasts of my creation, and it's 123 Pokemon in size. I'll post it some day, but it contains spoilers. If enough people ask for it, I will post it eventually. Anyway, here's the next chapter, though honestly, it's much further along on other websites.

Dust to Deceit

Stealing my thunder is a serious offense. If you do, you could be charged fatally until you explode. No really, I will charge you with a fine of over twenty-thousand volts. So tell me, do you want to take this shocking risk?

-Sparkoni

Chapter 16: Of Mice And Mend

There, standing before me, was a human. It towered over me, and for a minute, I felt nervous about trying. Yet, I must escape these woods and grow stronger! I must! There's nothing left for me here anyway.

"Okay, rat!" the human says in its tongue. I understand his words easily, for humans speak in very simple languages. "I bet you don't want to go with me, but you don't have a choice." His words sound a bit confident, but I hope this human knows what he's doing.

He is a fool. He thinks I do not wish to go willingly, when I obviously do wish to leave these blasted woods. Then again... I guess I 'could' go down fighting, and test his worth. I'm not going to lay down and submit to just anyone... that's a woman's job.

The human holds a small ball in his hand, which is half white, and half red. It doesn't take a genius to know it's a Pokeball, one of man's most disturbing, and controlling inventions. "Go!" he states. "Let's see if you can put yourself to good use, Spinarak," his tone sounds a bit... unsure, "I've been studying a bit. Let's see what can be done."

With a toss of what I think is his human hand, the ball opens a few feet away from me. From it, a spider is unleashed in a flash of red and white energy. This green pest is about my height, I suppose, and its six legs quiver as it stands before me. Its face shifts backwards, as its beady black eyes look at its trainer. Oh how easy it would have been for a surprise attack, but no, I'm in the mood to be entertained.

Fight? I hear the creature ask in a fearful tone. It's not as though the human can understand it, poor creature. Don't hit me! it yells.

"What are you doing?" the human asks the bug, looking downwards with impatience. "Attack it! Start with Poison Sting." He smiles at this.

The bug turns to eye me now, the slave bound creature ready to perform the will of its master. Yes, it may be controlling, but it leads to great power. Great power that only human contraptions can hope to achieve. I suppose I should be more focused on the battle at hand. In a swift motion, long pins are sent my way. They are swift in motion, but with my natural speed, they are easy to avoid. The pins shatter and seem to disappear as they strike a patch of grass. It is strange, considering the flimsiness of wet grass.

Enough about the grass and the forsook forest around me, its time to handle the human and his pet. I eat bugs for breakfast! I hiss to the small bug, still a few feet away from me.

The reaction the spider provides is not what I was hoping for. Really? It asks with an odd sense of interest, So do I! It sounds happy. I prefer Weedles. They taste good, and put out for such young creatures.

As interesting as it was to know that Spinarak actually did rape lesser bugs before eating, I had a mission. Listen you! I demand his attention with a loud hiss. Unless you or your human is an incompetent moron, I will lose! Got it? I paused, catching my breath before continuing to explain. I will be going with your human, and be one of his creatures, where I will get stronger! Do I make myself clear? I pause to narrow my eyes fiercely. I really despise talking to such an inferior creature such as a human, or a bug for that matter, but I have little choice. There is no other way, unless your human is really, really weak!

The bug seems unchanged by my words. In that case, you'd have to be very weak, the spider shrugged, for my human is not only a screwed up individual, but pathetic at training. Still, I won' stop you from throwing your life away, mainly because I don't give a rattata's rump about you.

"Spinarak!" The human interrupted, oblivious to our conversation, "Use String Shot!"

It is at this that the spider leaps a few feet off the ground, as a silky white flows from its mouth, with me as its target. Like before, I avoid the assault rather easily.

"Do it again!" the human commands.

I'll have to admit, I wasn't expecting a second attack to be unleashed. Being covered in a white sticky string does not comfort me very well. In fact, I feel as though I've probably toyed around far too much.

The human grins, as another human, who I must have been too single minded to have noticed, speaks up. "Phil, I vould suggest..." Yet, his strangely accented words get cut off by the other human.

"No time, Verick," the human sighs, as it looks back at me, "Spinarak, use Leech Life."

It's amazing how sluggish his commands are. Why, I probably could have destroyed this idle spider, but I think I won't. In fact, I can't avoid the sharp arachnid fangs that poke into the skin of my back. I feel it, the blood being drained from my body, and I feel oddly weakened. I can't help but yell in pain.

Maybe I should end my role as narrator. I suppose you are bored listening to the words of a mere rat, and besides that, I really must focus on the task at hand.

* * *

"Keep at it Spinarak," cheered Phil, "you're winning this fight... at least, I think you are." As he smiled, Phil began to understand the role of a trainer and the role of a Pokemon. 

Yummy blood, said the Spinarak in a happy tone, if only you Rattata could turn me on sexually, I'd feast upon your kind instead of Weedle. At that, its pinching fangs went to strike its target once again, but the Rattata was not going to be a favorite meal. With as swift a motion as the purple rodent could go, it rammed its head at the bug, causing it to lose its biting focus. Yet, the spider only seemed to move a few feet at most from the strike.

Your trainer is rather inept at this, isn't he? the rat asked while lunging at the bug as swiftly as it could. Not that I know the mind of a human, but he seems rather stupid for an already moronic species.

With a leap from all six of its legs to avoid the lunge, the small bug shrugged, No, he's a really stupid human, trust me!

The rat, however, did not heed the spider's words carefully. I have little time to be picky.

"String shot!" yelled Phillip, determined to capture the sly rat.

With a swift step to its right, the Rattata avoided yet another silky laser, to which it once again, lunged at the bloodsucking spider. As it did, its large fangs gritted against the bottom of its mouth, as its eyes shut tightly and its body began to shake violently.

"Looks constipated..." shrugged Phil.

Verick, however, shook his head. "I vouldn't be so sure."

Before Phil could ask why, the rodent was engulfed in a sphere made entirely of red hot flames. It was now charging at its spidery target, blazing both by way of speed and temperature. I think I've changed my mind. It snarled, as it struck the spider dead on with its burning force.

Into a smoking heap did the spider fall, as its eyes glazed over, and its head slumped towards the ground. Unconsciousness had claimed the beast for an untimely nap.

Phil scowled at this. "Return," he sighed, "god damn! I was so close to thinking this spider useful!" With a sigh of discontent, he held the spider's pokeball. In a beam of bright red, the spider was consumed, and sent to a place where men could not go.

At this, the rat's bodily flames subsided, leaving an unburnt rodent, just as conditionally the same as it had been when it blazed down the bug who dared to face it. Wimp! The rat snarled, hoping that its next battle would be far more worth its time, and worth its capture.

"That rat," he realized at last, "from last night! that was the fire breather!" he cheered, laughing happily at his realization. "I'm not insane!" He cheered just once, before realizing something, which caused him to stop. "This seems really, really cliche."

Verick rolled his eyes. "You're really vield, ja!" At that, he pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and a pencil as well.

To that, Phil paid no heed. "A fire breathing rattata is not an everyday thing... I want it!" he stated firmly. "Let's go Totodile," he stated, swiftly bringing out a different Pokeball, and throwing it just as quickly, "Bring me this worthy prize!"

In a flash of energy, straight from the red and white ball, the bipedal gator made the scene. Well... looks like I have to bail Phil out of yet another dilemma, the gator sighed, its voice showing a feminine tint, how marvelous!

The rattata snarled with rage. A woman?! it asked angrily. I am a proud, lone warrior, and I'm supposed to be captured by a woman?! How dare this human send one from the most inferior of genders to take him down.

All men are captured by women. The totodile replied, not too thrilled with the sexist nature of the crude rat. Its your job as a male to know your role to serve and be served with equality.

The rat did not pay attention to the reptile's words. Women should only speak when told to! You have no right to even dare speak to me as an equal! That was it! No more nice fire breathing rattata. If it was the way of humanity to send women to do a man's job, then there was certainly no point in going with the humans, even if an endless supply of power awaited the violet fuzz ball. That's it! I was going to go willingly, but I refuse to go by way of a woman like you!

How mature... the Totodile sighed, as it readied its claws. It was going to bleed some common sense into the rat by force if needed. The only thing keeping it from doing so was its human. Hopefully, Phil had grown smarter over the course of a day. Hopefully enough so to know the command for its claws and water attacks. If he didn't, then it may as well be quitting time for the blue gator. After risking her butt for Phil's useless life countless times over the course of yesterday, the least he could do, would be to learn how to give proper commands. Let's just get this over with.

Phil meanwhile, was as oblivious to the words that were barked out of the Pokemon's mouth. After all, Phil was only human, and like any human, he was incapable of naturally being able to understand the very tonal language that Pokemon spoke. "Let's see if you can do better than Spinarak did," Phil said to the starter he had almost killed not even a day earlier. It was time! It was time to prove himself not so incapable of handling lesser creatures. Not for his sister, in this case, but for himself, and his own sense of self worth.


	22. In Clode We Trust

**Dust to Deceit**

_Dreamers seek eternity, and as they dig through the mystical scape of the unconscious world, chaos ensues! One must not become just a dreamer, or they may wake up to a never-ending nightmare.  
-???_

**Interlude 6: In Clode We Trust**

Amongst boxes and crates filled with an endless source of food, wood, and other strange supplies, sat a man, on guard of all these important items. After all, these items would be vital for the long trip to Gretkan, and Clode had been entrusted with this current shift on sentry duty.

Suffice to say, however, that the short man with blue hair long enough to reach his shoulders had other things on his mind. In fact, snugged around his ears, and pushing back his slightly curly hair was a pair of headphones, whereupon he was rocking out on his shiny, invisible air guitar!

With about as good a singing voice as a banshee with a sore throat in extreme stereo, he sang along with the lyrics of the song being pumped directly into his ears at full blast. "I am the eggnog! We are the eggnog! I am the Walrein! Chu chu Pichu!"

As he strummed his non-existent instrument, a voice filled the room, and made him nearly crap his pants. "Nice singing," spoke a sly, yet chilling voice. Fazing through the walls, the appearing of a large, semi-transparent mask made itself known. "I'm sure there'd be use for you in the underworld, as a way to grace hellbound victims with your amazing musical voice." Its red eyes were intimidating enough, but a large pair of vampire teeth only made matters worse for the lone human.

Clode's jaw dropped, as his knees quivered weakly at the sight before him. "You..." he knew what it was, but he had no idea why it was here. "You are Spookoni!" His voice was at a high pitch, almost effeminate, only natural, since he was fearing for his life.

The mask head bobbed up and down twice, before grinning with its response, its vampiric teeth showing sharply as it spoke. "I see that my reputation precedes me," it stated while laughing, "and yet, your useless life will not be ended."

Clode's head tilted a bit to the right as he heard this. "It... it's not?" Could he have been mistaken? Was this demon, the most vicious and bloodthirsty of all Kertonmel's demons, not going to kill him and devour his soul? "Wait a second!" he realized that something was not right. "How are you managing to talk to me? You demons can't speak human!"

The demon of the damned sighed. "I suppose you could know what gives," it stated, opening its fang filled mouth, to reveal something most grotesque.

Clode nearly wanted to vomit at what he saw. "That... it's a..." he paused, forgetting what human organ that was, which rested on the demon's tongue.  
The demon closed its mouth, and when it reopened, the organ was no longer resting upon its tongue. "A diaphragm, yes," the demon stated with an intelligent, yet still chilling air about it, "I suppose to a simpleton like you though, the term voice box could be sufficient enough."

Clode nodded, "Oh yea, I knew that."

With a roll of its demonic eyes, the beast responded. "Of course you did." it stated with a sarcastic undertone, "I never doubted that you could."

"Exactly!" replied the human, obliviously proud of his intelligence. "So, thanks for, uh, ya know, sparing my life and all. I really appreciate your kindness."

In response to his praise, the demon's face grimaced. "I'd suggest you don't be so sickeningly thankful, useless creature. I am saving your life only because I have a message for you to bring your leader."

"What do you need?" asked Clode cautiously. He was concerned that making a pact with a demon was a bad and dangerous idea.

"I simply need you to tell your master that we Oni would like to help you against any resistance you may face getting to Gretkan." The masked monster stated. "I would be pleased if you did not waste time, as this diaphragm is giving my lungs a bit of a rash." The demon paused to clear its throat. "Do we have an understanding?"

The air guitarist nodded. "Sure thing, dude."

Spookoni rolled its red eyes at the human's statement. "Don't call me dud!" it snapped angrily. How dare this insignificant creature call a legend that could end its life without even a second thought a 'dud.' The thought was most unnerving to the demon in question. "Just go, please!" the demon snapped. "This diaphragm is making my throat very sore."

The human shook his head. "No can do man!" the air guitarist replied. "I gots me a shift to run."

The demon smiled. "I'll take your shift, how about it?" It laughed evilly at that. "Anyone who tries to steal your precious cargo will face the wrath of a demon!"

The blue haired human seemed to be bought by that statement. "Whoa, good point... later dude!"

At that, the human quickly departed from the storehouse, leaving a demon within, all by itself, or so it remained for a few seconds. "Yech!" the demon shouted in disgust as it spat out the human voice box organ. -That thing tastes worse than ***!-

At those words, the demon face was joined by what appeared to be an alien as, light blue in color. "You do good do good you do good good!" it cheered, clapping its fingerless hands together happily as it let loose a chuckle.  
The demon glanced at the blue weirdo and took a second to reply. -I hope this plan of yours is worth it. I don't know why you suggested that I should fraternize and form allies with lesser creatures,- It licked its lips with a dark, purple tongue -still, I'll take your word for it.-

"I'll have pretty bird ravage! I ravage long time!" The single minded creature stated for no apparent reason, other than the fact that it could speak, and not know how to shut up.

-Yes, you will have your 'pretty bird.'- The demon grinned, as its red eyes narrowed in sadistic glee. -I just hope that soon enough we can find our missing brother, Thermaloni. Until then, I suppose we could go along with your plan, so long as you know what you're doing.-

"Me know what doing! I know well what I doing!" The creature rambled, giggling at every pause.

-Good. I would not want to miss the chance to unleash the storm. Even without our lost brother, should we down Lugia, we could potentially unleash the storm, and cause the chaos we were summoned here to form, many earth years ago.- It laughed evilly at the thought. -Soon... we will clash with a god! Hopefully, we will emerge victorious.-


End file.
